Waiting on an Enemy
by OnigiriReject
Summary: Kyle is determined to earn enough money to live on his own in order to escape his home life, even if it means working as a waitress and serving Cartman every day. Even in their differences, maybe what they always needed was each other. KyCart and Stendy.
1. Angelic Death

Author: OnigiriReject

Summary: Kyle is spotted working his job as a waitress by none other than Cartman. Will Cartman keep his secret? And what's with that smile of his?

Pairings: KyCart with undertones of Stendy.

~South Park and all characters belong to Matt Stone and Trey Parker, I'm just borrowing them for a little fun. ~

/\/\/\

Chapter One: Angelic Death

/\/\/\

My name is Kyle Broflovski. I'm a junior attending South Park High, and am currently, much to my dismay, wearing three-inch heels and a short black poofy dress with ribbons in my hair.

A lot has happened in my life. I've been in more near-death instances than I'd like to recall, and until recently, had two best friends- Stan and Kenny. They were always there for me, so I was always miraculously saved. Most of my near death experiences, however, happened because of the asshole now sitting at my table.

And really, despite the fact I'm dressed like a girl, things were starting to look up for once.

Why the hell… did this have to happen? I stare down at my worst enemy seated at the table. His short brown hair is in the same style he's had since we were young, and he's wearing his signature red jacket, complete with A wide smile is spread across Cartman's face as he eyes me like I am a plump mouse- and Cartman is the cat.

Let me back up a bit.

It started earlier this year, back in January. It started with a stupid teapot my mom had- it was white with little pink flowers etched on it. It sat on our dining room table. One day, I came home from school and saw it.

I threw it across the room and it hit the wall, smashing into a million little pieces. I was alone in the house, so no one heard it, but at that moment during it's impact, something inside of me snapped.

I wanted my freedom. Sophomore through junior year- my mom had been pushing me to the point where I couldn't take it anymore. I studied so much that I thought my eyeballs were going to fall out. She wouldn't let me see my friends. I know she was doing it for my benefit, but to the extent that she took it, I literally had no life outside of my books. I became so obsessed with getting into a good college that I literally had nightmares about not getting into Harvard or Princeton or Yale, and I would wake up sweating or even crying.

My whole present life became about my future life. The guys would ask me to go play football a few times or go to an arcade, or even to some parties, but I always turned them down. Luckily, my mom let me see Stan sometimes, as long as it was a 'study session'. We're still best friends, but during those study sessions, neither of us would say much so I always felt like we were drifting apart. Up until recently, I was so oblivious to most of the things he did (outside of study with me) that I failed to notice he began to go out with Wendy again, after breaking up in sophomore year twice.

In my family, I'm more of my mom's kid. Ike is my dad's. Ike liked more sports, I liked more books. It just came out that way, so of course, being the older and more mature child anyway, they expected me to be the one to excel and get the best grades and into the best school. However, that wasn't the case. It was Ike that ended up being the real genius. In his classes through elementary middle school, it became a normal occurrence that his teachers would phone our house around dinner time and inform my parents that they wanted to push him up a grade. And again. And again.

Soon enough, when I entered high school, Ike was in ninth grade with me. We didn't talk much at school, and our home life became even more stressful. Then he got asked to attend a prestigious private school somewhere in Maryland, and then he moved out. Now at home, it's just me, Mom and Dad. Dad still works a lot so it's mostly Mom I see, and after Ike left, she became really focused on me and my grades, feeling like she failed me as a parent or something stupid.

All I did was study as soon as I got home from school. I would stay up until the wee hours of the morning pouring over my SAT practice guides and various book reports. I couldn't even think straight once I was in school.

The day I threw the teapot, I got my SAT scores back. A 2310. 90 points below perfect.

Then it happened. Something inside of me changed—I was sick of the life I had. I was sick of my Mom controlling who I saw and never giving me time to actually grow by myself and develop as a person, or even just leave the house.

Tea dripped unceremoniously down the ugly green wallpaper. Of course, by the time Mom returned home, I had cleaned it up, but the mere act of doing something so crude and selfish really, well, _liberated_ me. I felt free for the first time in forever. I had lit a small flame inside myself and my mom would never be able to see it, or put it out.

At that moment, I decided that once I was out of high school, I would live on my own. I didn't want to have to depend on my family for financial reasons or personal. I wanted to live my own life, and not just be a siphon for my mom's dashed hopes and dreams.

Don't get me wrong- I love my family. But, they are genuinely unhealthy for my sanity and wellbeing. In order for me to break free of not only my mom's suffocating grip, and also the shadow of my brother's success, I have to do things for myself.

The first thing I had to do to be able to get my plan working was to save up money. Lots of it.

Therefore, I needed a job. Badly. No one was really hiring. Obviously, I couldn't let my family find out about my job, so I couldn't very well have asked them for help. Asking kids at school seemed out of the question as well considering I had basically been acting like a corpse for the last two years, and I doubted any of them really wanted to help me out.

Then one day after winter break, I overheard some of the guys talking about this restaurant.

"Dudes, you have to check this place out!" Clyde said triumphantly in homeroom one day, pulling a flyer out of his backpack. At the time, I was barely interested in anything those idiots had to say, I was too preoccupied with my own stuff. But, I just so happened to be listening.

Stan was sitting with Wendy on his lap, looking as happy as a puppy dog with a treat. She was smiling at him and being Miss Perfect, as usual. Kenny and Butters were there too, chatting with Token about something. The fat-ass was sitting in front of me, his head down. He was acting annoyed about something so I just didn't bother even insulting him that morning.

Anyway, Clyde came in and was talking about this great restaurant called "Angel Morte."

"Doesn't that mean 'Angel Death'?" I piped in, looking up from my copy of Crime and Punishment.

Clyde looked surprised at my interjection, but he just smiled stupidly and continued, "Yeah- and it really is what it says. Death by angels," Clyde smiled stupidly to himself and held the flyer out for everyone to see. "It's right near Stark's pond on the edge of town, just opened up too. It used to be a Raisins, but it was shut down years ago, so they got a new owner and redesigned the place and hired a lot of the girls again. The only people that work there are cute girls- they're hiring now too because it's new. They wear these short waitress dresses that are either white or black—

"Sounds like you've spent a lot of time there," Wendy added smartly, smiling at Clyde's embarrassment.

"You're just jealous you could never work there, Wendy, they're only looking for cute girls," he replied back smoothly. Stan began to retort, but I zoned out of the conversation.

My heart sank. Truly- I'd been looking for a job for a few months at that point. I was desperate. Even desperate enough to…

"Can I ask your name, young lady?" the manager of the restaurant looked me up and down and smiled. He was an older Japanese man named Mr. Yamamoto. He seemed nice enough, but I still couldn't have been more embarrassed even if I wanted to be.

I was wearing a dress my mom had long since abandoned since she gained one hundred pounds after I was born. It was pink and frilly. I know it was completely dumb to assume that he wouldn't know I was a boy, but for years, Eric Cartman would remark how feminine and gay I looked, so I just prayed for once that he was right and I could really pass it off. I even looked up how to apply lipstick on the internet.

As another precaution, I wasn't wearing my hat, which I constantly wore at school. My hair had gotten long enough that my red curls drooped to my shoulders. I was slim enough that I had next to no body muscle, and my legs looked long and slender, almost exactly like a girl's legs. Genuinely, even I have to admit I really did look like a girl. A girl wearing very dirty tennis shoes with a pink frilly dress, but a girl nonetheless. Dressing up Butters as Marjorine years ago finally paid off.

"Kyl-" I began, then realizing how dumb it would be to use my real name, I quickly added in a higher pitched version of my voice, "-lee. Kylie."

The manager nodded and looked me up and down once more, smiling to himself with the look of a pedophile. I inwardly cringed but kept my composure.

"We do have a position open waiting tables, if you don't mind that kind of work. The theme of this restaurant is a cute twist on the idea of 'angels of death'. The uniforms are either white or black with bows and lace, as you've seen, depending on if you're a normal angel or the angel of death. As long as you're good at remembering who ordered what and are congenial and polite, you should be fine."

I beamed and grabbed his hand and shook it vigorously. "Thank you very much, sir! I'll do my best!" I said in the high-pitched voice.

The uniform, as I quickly discovered, was an elaborate short black dress, with a turtle neck at the top and no sleeves. Instead, I had long black arm warmers that tied rich above my elbows and around my middle finger. A black large bow was tied around my middle and hung in the back just over my poofed, short skirt, which had a lace petticoat underneath it. The manager quickly noticed that my chest was, as he put it, 'less endowed' than the other girls, so I got the darker angel motif instead of the cleavage showing white dress with feathery angel wings. There were also long lacey ribbons tied on either side of my head and hung lower than my actual hair, which when out of my hat, hangs to my shoulders in perfect ringlets. It's also stupidly required that all the waitresses wear these obnoxious three-inch heels that I'm still getting used to wearing.

I have been working here for a week. Guys have tried to look up my skirt as I walk away, but they leave great tips. And besides- I'm not actually a girl. Not even my coworkers have found out yet- it was going pretty great. I've been saving up my money and soon, for college, I'll be self-sufficient. Things were going great.

But that was until this asshole decided to ruin it all for me.

"What do _you_ want?" I whisper at him in my normal voice, my anger and embarrassment seething. I clenched the menu I was holding in my hands tightly. There is no way I could run away from him without making a scene.

Today is one of the slower days in the restaurant, sadly; otherwise one of the other girls could have taken his table. I agreed to it before I noticed who the hell was sitting here. Fuck. Did he find out about my mom? Not even Stan knows that! Did he really come to ruin everything for me?

He blinks and looks me up and down again. He isn't as fat as he was when we were younger, but he was still larger than me, about four inches taller and has a larger build. He hadn't worn his hat in years so his short brown hair was always showing now. His red coat is unbuttoned at the top.

Cartman smiles again, and says simply, "A hamburger with a large order of fries."

I blink- surprise would be an understatement of what I'm feeling. I look at him, my jaw dropping open.

"Repeat that," I say, looking him in the face. One of my red curls unceremoniously falls in my face. Cartman's smile widens as he leans into me.

"A hamburger," he says slowly, staring deeply into my eyes, "and large fries." If I didn't know any better, it appears Cartman is flirting with me. Me who he thinks is a girl.

He doesn't know it's me.

He doesn't recognize me.

I'm safe?

"Uh-" I scramble to regain composure and tuck the curl behind my ear. "Right away sir." Bow for the customer. Right. I bow to Cartman through gritted teeth and make off toward the kitchen, my heels clacking the whole way.

My heart is beating in my ears. I quickly write down his order and pin it on the string above the kitchen. Glancing back toward the fat-ass, I notice he's still watching me with his narrowed brown eyes.

I gulp again. This is fucking unreal. Why is he here? Does he seriously not recognize me?

I mean- yeah the girls working here think I'm a girl, and so does the manager, and so far, so do all the customers, but really, _Cartman_ can't tell? He's been such an ass to me forever- I thought _he_ of all people would be able to recognize the face of the person he's been tormenting his entire life.

I squat behind the welcome table, out of his sight, and sit on the ground, the ribbons on my lacey skirt dragging on the floor. What should I do? I could get him kicked out if I say he's harassing me. The bouncers would be thrilled.

But I can't do anything too drastic- I need this job. Fuck my life. Maybe if he just doesn't recognize me, he'll leave and we both can go on our merry ways and just pretend this never happened?

Standing up, I grab a bread bowl and walk toward his table. He was sitting next to one of the giant windows with the booth seats.

"Would you like some bread, sir?" I attempt to smile but it probably looks like I'm in pain. He glances up at me from a book he was reading- Crime and Punishment. He was almost at the end. He's doing his English homework?

"Sure," he smiles again at me. My smile vanishes as I look at him. Every other time I've seen this teen smile, usually I was in pain or completely pissed off. This is weird.

I feel my cheeks heat up as I place the bowl on his table. Why am I blushing? It's probably out of being completely creeped out by an actual… human-like Cartman.

I turn on my heel and walk back toward the backroom where the other waitresses hang out. Ever since Raisins was torn down a few years ago (something about promoting underage prostitution) most of the girls that worked there now work here. There's Lexis, Mercedes, Porsche, Acura and Ferrari. Despite appearing to be complete sluts, they're actually pretty decent people. Only Porsche seems interested in actually dating the customers.

Today though, since it is a little slow, only Ferrari is still working. Cartman and some old guy who always orders an omelet are the only ones eating.

"Hey Ferrari," I start in my high-pitched voice again. She's changing out of her white dress into her normal clothes; I guess she's leaving soon too. She's down to her bra and panties. I look elsewhere in the room. It would be awkward to look at her- I am still a guy after all. "That kid in there… does he come here a lot?"

Ferrari turns to face me, and blinks, her long brown hair framing her tan body, "You mean the one with the brown hair? Every once in a while, he's been coming for a few weeks."

Shit, he's come here before. I can't very well throw him out.

"Oh- okay…" I look down, disheartened. Ferrari smiles at me and pulls on her jeans.

"He always seems a little down if you ask me… Why- you interested?" she asks, pulling on a red tank top.

"Interested…" I trail off, wondering what she means, until, "Oh NO! God no!" My face turns red as I think about it. "Cartman? Never! Someone would have to be crazy to like him." I'm blathering and all the while, Ferrari is getting the absolute wrong idea.

She laughs, "You don't have to be embarrassed, Kylie." She folds up her uniform and places it in her locker. Walking past me toward the door, she glances back at me. "It seems like Mr. Gastborovic is leaving- that leaves you two alone. I think only Thomas is in the kitchen tonight too," she pauses and waves at me, walking out the door, "Good luck!"

…I'm not gay. Especially for Cartman.

I hear Thomas ring the bell and I know Cartman's order is ready. Attempting to compose myself I take a deep breath and push open the door.

He's still sitting there reading his book with half a piece of bread in his hand.

Grabbing the plate full of steaming fries and hamburger, I walk carefully over to his table. There's no light outside. I glance up at the clock- it was 9:30. We'll be closing in half an hour…

"Here you go, sir," I say in my high-pitched voice again as I place the plate on his table.

He looks down at it and back up at me. "Thanks…" he says softly, glancing at my nametag, "Kylie."

The surprise at his thanks doesn't quite hit me right away as I smile at him. "It's my job, sir." Curse this restaurant and making all its employees add 'sir' and 'madam' at the end of every sentence.

"I have to ask though…" he says, looking me in the eyes again. Ice overtakes my insides as I grip my plate. "Is there some reason I don't have a drink?" his voice is dripping with acid and I feel his eyes shooting daggers at me in annoyance.

Yep. That's the Cartman I know.

"Oh- I'm sorry!" I say quickly. My fear takes over anytime I see him like that and I see white. "Um, water is okay, right? Right. Be right back, sir, I'm sorry!" I say in a hurry as I spin toward the kitchen. In one swift movement, as I put my left foot down, I lose my balance and my chin meets with the tiled floor with a loud _thud_.

"Ow…" is all I say as I push myself off the floor. Today fucking sucks. I glance back at Cartman, getting the feeling he's about to laugh his ass off. Instead, he's pushing himself out of the booth and walking up to my fallen and embarrassed self.

I'm still on the floor as he puts one of his hands out toward me, a smirk on his face. He _was_ amused by my fall, but he was keeping it on the inside. I look between his hand and him as my brain slowly processes the fact he wants me to grab hold of it.

I push myself off the ground slightly and take hold of his hand, which is much larger than my own. He pulls me upward very quickly and I find my head in his chest and my body pressed against his.

He leans his face into mine, and smiles as I blush. He chuckles at my obvious embarrassment at the situation, "That's what you get for forgetting my drink."

I stutter and push him off of me, running into the kitchen and closing the door behind me. What-the-fuck-was-that?

I got Thomas to deliver the drink for me and lock up that night- I couldn't face Cartman again. I ran out through the back exit and changed outside, then went home.

/\/\/\

That was last night. Now it's Thursday, and I'm at school, and I have no choice but to see him.

He's sitting at his desk in front of me as the rest of the class chatters away. Mr. Garrison is telling people to take their seats so we can begin our lesson.

So… he really didn't know it was me?

"Cartman."

He doesn't respond.

"Cartman," I tap on his shoulder as the class slowly quiets down. He glances over it and frowns, furrowing his brows.

"What the fuck do you want, Jew?" he whispers venomously.

I inwardly wince at the anger in his voice. He didn't sound like that when I was dressed as a girl…

He sighs before I can answer. "Did you read the fucking book, Jew?"

I blink. "Crime and Punishment? Yeah."

He smirks slightly and twists more in his chair to get a better look at me. "Did you do the homework then?"

I know where this is going. "Yes and I'm not letting you copy it."

"But Kahllll…" he draws out my name in his annoying way. "I was busy last night, I didn't even have time to read the stupid book, let alone do the homework."

But… I saw him reading it last night… he really has no idea it's me? And he was almost done with it when I saw him… I sigh. "Fine. You just have to promise to be super nice to me for the rest of your life."

"Oh, like that's going to happen Jew-boy."

I smile at his stupid choice of words. "Fine then, go on without your homework."

His face twists into anger. "Fuck you, kike!"

"Eric Cartman- watch your language!" Mr. Garrison says from the front of the room. I smile. It was fun making him mad.

Although, I still wonder if he knew it was me. He sure didn't act like it… although it was Cartman after all.

I think… I'll just keep it a secret. Hopefully he just won't show up again and we can forget about it.

/\/\/\

Author's Note:

Sleep deprivation at it's finest. Came up with this idea at 4 am a few nights ago and was actually able to bang out a chapter in one sitting, I'm pretty happy with how it came out.

I am not dropping my other stories, don't worry. I just needed a little break from all the angst of 1.5 MPH and all the references in Broken Worlds… it was a brain break for me.

Plus I've been watching a really cute BL anime and I wanted KyCart to have a cute scene minus angst sometimes, ya know? 1.5 MPH is becoming hard to write when I want to write adorable blushing scenes. :D

Anywho, thanks for reading.

Dunno how long this will be actually. And I wrote it in a different style than I normally do, which was pretty difficult I have to admit. Present tense first person is hard for me.

Love, ON


	2. Perfect Situations

Author: OnigiriReject

Summary: Kyle is spotted working his job as a waitress by none other than Cartman. Will Cartman keep his secret? And what's with that smile of his?

Pairings: KyCart with undertones of Stendy.

~South Park and all characters belong to Matt Stone and Trey Parker, I'm just borrowing them for a little fun. ~

/\/\/\

Chapter Two: "Perfect" Situations

/\/\/\

I've been working at Angel Morte for two weeks now, and at seven dollars an hour plus tips, have earned about four hundred dollars. I'm excited. I've just lied and told my mom that I'm staying at the library and studying from four to ten every night. Sadly enough, she believes me. She doesn't care as long as my grades stay up.

That's one problem out of the way at least… my other problem came to the restaurant again tonight.

I was wrong. He's here again.

It had been a week since I saw him at Angel Morte that night, it was Wednesday again. And he was here. Again.

It was 8:20ish, which meant some of the other girls were still here. There were about eight tables filled, mostly of old couples and businessmen. I already had a table, but when we were asked who wanted Cartman's, I quickly ducked my head behind my plate and left the room to attend a table full of college guys, all of which ordered beer. Cartman or eight frat boys… no contest.

I glance behind my shoulder and see Lexis in front of Cartman's table. He was sitting in the same window booth as before. I shake my head and attempt to focus on the table full of drooling college boys catcalling me.

"Hello, my name is Kylie and I will be your server tonight, what can I get you sirs tonight?" I smile through my disgust at their faces and hold my notepad at the ready. The closest one looks me in the eyes, then trails down toward my nonexistent cleavage.

"Haven't I seen you before?" he asks, lifting a hand toward me and smiling. His words were beginning to slur. Were they drinking before they came here? I back step slightly but retain my composure.

"Erm, I don't think so, sir, unless you've been here before." I smile again.

"No, I mean at the club the other night… there was this redhead all up on me, and I swear you look just like her…" His buddies guffaw at him as he half smiles at me in a way that's supposed to be flirty.

I cringe at the thought. "No, I'm sorry, that wasn't me. So to get started, what would you like?"

"Well, it _could_ be you," the same teen starts again. He was heavily built in comparison to me, and had sandy blonde hair. He reeked of alcohol. "Tonight, me and the guys are going back there, care to join us?" he half smiles again.

"No _thank you_, I have a long shift tonight so even if I wanted to, I couldn't possibly-

"Come on baby," one of his friends says. "It would be fun- we'd love to see you on the dance floor." He licks his lips in the most obvious way; I'm going to be sick. They're beginning to cross the line- I look around for the closest bouncer.

The other boys laugh and egg the first boy on as he scoots his chair out from underneath him and snakes his arm around my waist. I'm too shocked to do anything at first as he pulls me into him. He had about five inches on me, putting him at about six feet. Fuck.

"Get off of me!" I say loudly, causing a nearby table and their waitress, Mercedes, to turn around.

I worm my way out of his grasp but he grabs hold of my bow and I hear the back of my dress rip. Shit. The other boys laugh as he limply holds the now not-attached bow. He puts his hand on my shoulder and tries to twist me to face him.

Before I know what I'm doing, I turn around and meet his face with my hand, slapping him loudly across the cheek. I open my eyes and see a fresh red mark. He looks mad.

"You little bitch- think you're so tough," he starts dashing toward me with a look of anger in his eyes.

"Security!" I hear Lexis yell as I ball my hand into a fist. Suddenly there's a blur of red in front of me as someone puts himself between the college boy and me.

There's a sickening crunch as his hand makes contact with the frat boy's nose. Blood is falling from where his nose used to be, and the blur in front of me moves his hand back.

"_You chithead_!" the boy says through the blood, he looks surprised as to how there's so much blood coming from his nose. "_You boke my noche_!"

He takes a quick swing at the person who hit him and smacks him in the eye. His face turns toward me from the impact and I see his face- it's Cartman.

Cartman puts his hand over his eye and curses, looking up at the other boy. He smirks triumphantly and his friends stand up a moment too late- the bouncers are surrounding them.

"Is there a problem here?" one of them asks as he looks between Cartman and the college boy. He was taller than both of them, and seemed slightly amused that the boy was bleeding profusely from his nose. Neither one answers.

The bouncer looks back at Mercedes and she makes the hand motion to throw them out.

I grab onto the arm in front of me and look at the bouncer, trying to silently tell him that the fight was my fault, and Cartman should not be thrown out for protecting me-

Wait, Cartman protected me?

The bouncer nods once and grabs the sandy-haired teen by his arm, dragging him to the back exit as he held his nose, making no motion to grab Cartman as well. Some of the other patrons applaud for the bouncers as they drag the boy and his friends out of the restaurant. I breathe a sigh of relief and glance up at Cartman.

He's looking at me curiously and I realize I'm still holding his arm tightly. I let go and stammer, "So-sorry. Are you okay?"

He removes his hand from his eye, "Yeah, I'm fine."

Mercedes steps forward and quickly glances between us, looking worried, "Are you both okay? Kylie?"

I begin, "Yeah I'm okay, but-

"I'm _fine_, don't fucking worry," Cartman says, rubbing his eye and looking defiantly at Mercedes. She smiles.

"I'm sorry about that, sir. You really saved Kylie back there. I don't know what we would have done without you? Ice cream on the house?"

"Whatever," he says. If I didn't know better, it looked like he was pretty pleased with himself.

Mercedes beams and takes my hand, pulling me to the back room. "You're really okay?" she asks as the patrons stare at us. She pushes open the door and lets go of my hand.

"Yeah I'm fine… he's not going to get in trouble, is he?" I hear myself ask. Why do I care if Cartman is in trouble or not?

"No no, the manager, Mr. Yamamoto, is pretty understanding. He's not here right now, but I know he would have done the same thing I had," she smiles again and walks off toward her locker.

Lexis walks through the door and looks at me, smiling deviously.

"He saved you-" Lexis whispers at me as she retrieves his sundae from the counter near the kitchen. She smiles warmly, her lips smeared in cherry lip balm, and hands me the plate. "You take it to him. At least thank him!"  
"But- but Lexis," I start. I'm blathering again. "I can't, it's too-

"Ferrari told me you liked him, it's okay," Lexis interrupts. "I'm sorry I took his table earlier. Here's me paying you back. Mr. Yamamoto is fine with us hanging with the customers sometimes and chatting, you know."

She places the plate in my hands as I stare at her, wide-eyed and completely dumbstruck. I'm going to kill Ferrari.

"Go get him!" she whispers at me as she pushes me through the door onto the restaurant floor.

I freeze as I attempt to regain my balance. Looking through the people left in the restaurant, there was only Cartman sitting patiently at his table and a few businessmen. The other waitresses were wiping off the tables.

I inhale deeply and walk toward his table, keeping the sundae balanced on the plate, my heels clacking on the tiled floor. Finally I reach his table and place it in front of him. His eyes grow wide as he eyes the sweets; I smile to myself. Same old Cartman.

I glance at the seat across from him and quickly sit down- I'd seen the other girls do this a few times to get better tips. They'd sit with the customers and try to act interested in what they were saying. Mr. Yamamoto, the manager, encouraged it actually, but I never felt comfortable flirting with a customer. I _am_ still a guy, it's awkward enough walking around in a frilly black dress and three inch heels, let alone batting my eyes and touching the customers.

Cartman had been eyeing me since I sat down. I glance up at him nervously, his brown eyes looking questioningly at me.

"Thank you…" I begin, looking in my lap, "for helping me."

He rolls his eyes and picks up a spoon. "Security would have gotten to you if I didn't," he says icily and digs his spoon into the vanilla ice cream and shoves it in his mouth.

I cringe at the coldness in his voice, "Well… you didn't have to. They would have gotten them if you didn't…. so thanks."

He paused and looked at me, a confused look on his face. "You're welcome… sorry your dress got fucked up," he mumbles quietly as he quickly shoved another spoonful of hot fudge in his mouth. I smile in return- it was the least I could do. After all, I'd never seen him genuinely be polite to someone and mean it.

"You're my waitress from last week, right?" he says between chewing. I glance up at him and nod again. He smiles his cruel Cartman smile and I feel my insides freeze over again- his smiles always did that to me. Bad habit from younger days. "You never did get me my drink," he says teasingly.

I blink, surprised at the playful tone in his voice. He doesn't sound like he's trying to be cruel… he's just teasing me. I smile and try to keep my blush down (it's not a good thing for a server to be remembered by the fact I forgot his drink). "Yeah… sorry about that," I say in my high-pitched voice. "I've been having a bit of an off-time lately."

"You and I both."

There's an awkward pause as he licks his spoon clean of the whipped cream. I glance down at the table and notice he has the same book he did last week- Crime and Punishment. He said he didn't read it to 'Kyle' at school, but this copy looks like it's been read through multiple times, and even has post-it notes on the pages.

"Is that book any good?" I ask, pointing at it. Might as well play dumb.

He glances down at it nonchalantly and hands it to me. "I like it. Reading it for school though- I finished it last week, but decided to go through it again since there are a million things I could have overlooked."

He could have knocked me over with a feather after that. Cartman reading? He actually understands this book? It took me so long to understand exactly what was going on, let alone be able to comment on if I liked it or not.

"Oh," is all I can say.

He looks at me again as I open the book and flip through the pages mindlessly. He sighs and takes the book from my hands.

"Don't you want to know my name?" he asks, smiling. His eyes are narrowed- he looks mischievous. "I mean, I _did_ save you… you don't even want to know your _savior_'s name?" He's such an asshole.

I blink- I hadn't thought about that. Had I accidently called him by his name at some point without him telling me what it was? "Oh… what's your name…" pause, "_sir?_" I smile evilly back at him. Even if he didn't know I was Kyle, he loves making anyone obey him. I could have some fun like this.

"Why I'm so glad you asked," he says in a fake happy voice. I roll my eyes, "It's Eric Cartman."

I think about what he says. "So… can I call you Mr. Eric?" I beam at him. This is fun.

He blushes at this- he obviously isn't used to people calling him by his first name. "Uh… if you want to. Only my mom calls me Eric…" he thinks for a moment then frowns.

Mercedes (now in a short skirt and pink top) weaves through the tables near us, and stops at our booth. "Lexis is locking up tonight …" she trails off and gives me a small wink so Cartman won't see it. I feel myself blushing. She walks off and out the front door. Night is falling now- the sky is tinted with the pinks and purples of a sunset.

I face him as he eats his sundae, slower than before. The area around his eye is red and puffy. One of my obnoxious red curls falls in front of my face, "Are you sure your eye is okay?"

"I've had worse," his face darkened. Somehow that doesn't surprise me, I decide not to ask him to elaborate.

"Alright, well I'll have to go soon. My shift is almost over," I say, standing up. I get outside of the booth and face him again, bowing my head. "Thank you for saving me again…" I say quietly. It's hard for me to thank Cartman, even in this disguise.

"Wait," he says. I look up and he's already out of his booth. I meet his eyes- they look softer than usual. "Why did you avoid me when you first came in today?"

I stammer, he noticed me hiding behind the plate? "Uh, well… After the way I left last time, I didn't think you'd want to see me… I mean, I forgot your drink, and-

"So you admit the way you left last week was rude?" He narrowed his eyes. I could feel the ice forming in my chest.

"Um, well-

"Because it was. You shouldn't do that to your _loyal customers_," his voice was laced with venom. His hand found my wrist and clasped it tightly. "Getting up and leaving without telling me… was very _cowardly_. Sneaky, even." He twists my arm upward and my hand near his mouth. I can feel his breath on my hand. His grip tightens. I'm scared- _this_ is Cartman. My heart starts to race.

"…Mr. Eric," I begin. His eyes snap back to normal as soon as I say that and his grip softens. "Please… let go of me…"

He looks shocked at what he was doing and lets go of my wrist.

"I'm sorry…" he says quietly. I'm shocked that he apologized. "It's just… you remind me… of someone I know."

I freeze. Someone he knows?

"Excuse me, sir," I bow again and dash to the back room, pulling open the door and dashing in. I feel my heart beating in my ears.

I remind him… of Kyle. Of myself- of the Kyle he knows. Shit.

Has he figured it out?

/\/\/\

The next day at school, I waited outside the classroom for him. He walked up to Mr. Garrison's room with only two minutes before the bell. As usual. Stan was too busy with Wendy to even notice I'd vacated the room. Clyde was showing Kenny and Butters his latest Playboy, so I thought it best to sneak out.

Cartman glances up at me. "What do you want, Jew?"

He had a black eye where the puffiness was forming the night before. "Where'd you get the black eye, fat ass?" Good job.

His face twisted from irritation, "None of your god damn business, kike. Get out of my face."

Before he could walk past me, I walked in front of him. "Why do you always want to copy off of me?"

"Because I don't have time to do the work myself and I haven't read the book," he replied coolly.

"You read the book," I started, crossing my arms. "I saw you at that restaurant a while ago- you've been reading it."

He stopped and looked me in the eyes. I genuinely surprised him. "It's about fucking _murder_, why wouldn't I like it?"

I roll my eyes. "But you acted like you didn't read the book. Why?"

"None of your business."  
"Tell me why, Cartman."

"Out of my way you nosy Jew-rat."

I know if I were dressed as Kylie he'd be a lot more polite about this. So he genuinely doesn't know I'm Kylie, otherwise he would have admitted up front that he's been reading the book. I'm safe… for now.

I don't move from in front of Cartman and I see him getting really pissed. "Fine. Just don't expect to be able to copy off of me anymore."

"Whatever, you're not that smart anyway," he says half-heartedly, pushing past me into the room. The bell's rings echo through the hallway and I follow him inside the room.

/\/\/\

That night, Cartman was at Angel Morte again in the same booth at eight o'clock. The other girls joked that he wanted to see me, but I knew better. He looked annoyed and sat at the table with his head in his hands.

Lexis pushed me with the menu to go see what he wanted, but he didn't look too interested.

"Sit with me," he says as he waves away the menu I'm holding. I glance back toward the welcome table where the other waitresses are motioning me to sit with him. I inwardly sigh and sit down with him.

"First off… I wanted to… apologize for lashing out at you yesterday," he didn't look at me. I nodded. It's still pretty fucking weird to see him apologize- for ANYTHING. Let alone to _me_. Well, he doesn't know it's me, but… fuck.

He continued to look upset, so I assume that feeling bad about grabbing me wasn't the problem. I can sort of forgive him for it. I mean, he's done worse to me.

"What's wrong, Mr. Eric?" I say in my high-pitched voice, which is beginning to sound off, even to me.

He looks up at me. "Drop the pleasantries, Kylie, I'm not in the mood."

I slump and begin to get irritated. Where does he come off bossing me around?

I pause and look him in the face, realizing something's wrong, "Did something happen?"

"Kinda," he says, staring at the table. I wait for him to continue. "My mom hasn't been home for a few days."

"…Are you worried?" I ask. Pretending not to know was easier than admitting I knew his mom was a raging whore and probably off with yet another guy. It was common knowledge to the town, but luckily, this restaurant was equidistant from both South Park and the next town over. Partially why I decided to apply here- less of a chance of being noticed.

"Not especially…" he looked up at me again. His eyes looked sad. "But, it sucks sometimes, ya know? That's why I come here. For people…"

Wait a second… is Cartman lonely?  
He stares into my eyes, "What's up?"

I blink- I guess I was spacing out. "You mean you're… lonely?"

He huffs and turns slightly pink, "That's a fucking gay way of saying it."

He didn't deny it. "Well…" I started, twiddling my thumbs, "I get lonely sometimes, too, I think everyone does." I mean, those two years when all I did was study, I got lonely. I didn't get to see my friends at all, I was even beginning to miss Cartman's constant teasing. Stan is too busy with Wendy now to even notice I've been out of contact for a few weeks since I started working here… "And you know, this restaurant will always be here."

He stared at me for a moment and smiled. "I hope it is." The icicles began to form in my chest again, but this time, his smile seemed different. It looked… genuine. I don't think I'd ever seen a real smile from him…

My face began to heat up as I looked at him. I tried to smile but my face felt funny. "I…" I began, looking in his brown eyes. "I have to get back to work," I said quickly, getting out of the booth and walking into the backroom. As soon as the door swung closed behind me, I put my back to the wall and took a deep breath.

What's going on? He's acting so fucking different. Why doesn't he act like that around me normally? Is this how he normally acts to girls?

No, I've seen him with Wendy. This is… different. He said I remind him of someone (most likely myself) but why would that make him act different toward me?

The only times I remind him of Kyle are the times when he gets mean and violent. Which makes sense.

Because I'm Kyle- the Jew he's hated forever. The one who he's been bickering with since we were younger. What is he going to do when he figures out Kylie is me?

This is too weird.


	3. Obliterating the Lines

Author: OnigiriReject

Summary: Kyle is spotted working his job as a waitress by none other than Cartman. Will Cartman keep his secret? And what's with that smile of his?

Pairings: KyCart with undertones of Stendy.

~South Park and all characters belong to Matt Stone and Trey Parker, I'm just borrowing them for a little fun. ~

/\/\/\

Chapter Three: Obliterating the Lines

/\/\/\

And then at school the next day (Friday), he treated me like I was the Jew he loathed his entire life. The split was very obvious- he treated Kylie like a person, and me like a doormat that was fun to step on.

I don't think I've ever seen him treat anyone the way he has treated me when I'm Kylie. It's becoming strange to see the two different sides of him. I mean- he's Cartman. He's tried to kill me more times than I can count on my fingers. But lately… it's just gotten too complicated. I have to stop thinking about it.

He saved me. Well, Kylie, from those guys. I never could think of him as someone who would do that. For anyone, let alone me.

We were in English again having group discussions on Crime and Punishment. Cartman was enjoying relentlessly annoying me _again_. God, one day I'm going to have a severe identity crisis and need a therapist because of this kid.

"Will you knock it off already?" I yell, facing him. He was prattling on some nonsense about Jews again, I was mostly zoning out, but I was trying to work on _our_ project, so any distractions weren't really helping. Namely though, it was Kenny, Stan, Cartman _and_ my project.

"Dude, chill, let's just get this done," Stan says, narrowing his eyes and trying to read a passage in the middle of the book. "Who's Raskolnikov?"  
I roll my eyes, "The main character who kills the old pawn broker and her sister."

"Oh," Stan says. He glances over his shoulder and looks at Wendy in another group. She giggles and waves at him, I try to tune it out. How long had it been since Stan and I hung out? A few months probably. He never tried to initiate anything after my home situation got pretty bad- mostly because about the same time, he and Wendy got back together. He wasn't abandoning me

"I really don't want to fucking do this," Kenny says from next to us. We moved all our desks together to work. Kenny didn't really ditch me either, he'd been dying pretty frequently lately, so I can't really blame him if his thoughts were elsewhere. I hadn't been ditched by my friends.

"Well, we have to," I say, glancing over at Kenny in annoyance. He sighs and pushes some strands of blonde hair behind his ears.

Cartman sighs loudly. "Well if the _Jew_ says we have to do it, then by all means guys, we have to. After all, he is the ruler of all things-

"Just shut the fuck up, Cartman, I'm really not in the mood," because of _you_, you dumb fuck. "And remember, I said you can't copy off of me anymore. You actually read the book this time, right? You can contribute to our group."

I smile wide with the full intention of pissing him off. Stan says, "Dude, cut it out, both of you. I just want to get this done."

"So you can get back to your _girlfriend_?" I snap without meaning to. Stan looks surprised, then smiles.

"Yes, actually," he obviously didn't hear the bitterness in my voice. I inwardly wretch at his goofy smile from thinking about Wendy. Idiot. I really have lost my best friend.

Little did I notice, Cartman had been staring at me since I smiled at him. I narrow my eyes, "What do you want, fat-ass?"

He blinked and narrowed his eyes in return. In one quick movement, he grabbed my green trapper hat off my head and pulled, before I could stop him. My red curls fell down to my shoulders and in my face as I looked at him, shocked. He looked equally shocked.

"K-kylie?" he asks. I feel my cheeks turn red.

Fuck.

He knows.

His face has no expression for a moment, then he grabs my wrist and pulls me upward as he stands up. "Bathroom," he murmurs; he turns toward the door and yanks me behind him.

Before Stan or Kenny even speaks, I'm out the door with Cartman, with barely a fight.

I regain my senses three steps before the men's room door. "Let go of me!" I pull my arm back and more red hair falls in my face. Cartman is still holding my hat.

"You…" he begins, looking at me. The ice forms in my chest again- he looks really mad. "You sneaky, little, Jew-rat." He grabs me by both my arms and shoves me against the wall. Pain radiates from my back- I wince but he doesn't let up. He lowers his face into mine and whispers dangerously, "Were you pretending to be a girl to get me to admit things that you could use against me? Seeing if you could find my _weakness_?"

I stammer- he was so wrong! I wouldn't go that far for fucking _Cartman_, "No you _asshole_," I didn't like being at this close proximity with him. "I needed the job!"

"And there weren't any jobs that didn't require you to wear a skirt _exactly_ where I hang out at least twice a week!"  
"Hey- fuck off! How was I supposed to know you went there?"

"WHY DOES THAT MATTER?" He slams me into the lockers behind me. It hurt so much, I began to see stars. Being much lighter than Cartman didn't help unless I was able to run away. He hissed at me, "You fucking _deceived_ me Jew! Not only me, but the restaurant! I doubt you'd be able to keep that job if they figured out you were male!"

I blink through the pain and look him in the eyes. He's right- if they find out, I'll get fired in a heartbeat. It's all over. I'll have to find a new job. What if they contact my parents? I'm still underage.

I slump in Cartman's hands and look down. He chuckles and I meet his eyes. He's smirking.

"Well… I won't tell anyone," I literally feel my hopes being lifted inside of me. "Solely because making a Jew do whatever I say puts you in your rightful place. I rather enjoy watching you struggle in heels and lacey things." I freeze.

"And if you don't treat me right- I'll out you not only to the manager and your parents, but to the whole town. Understand?" he smiles at me with his Cheshire Cat-like grin and I know my insides are permanently frozen over.

As soon as I thought everything would work out, it all goes to shit yet again. Of course. I scowl at him, unable to do anything, for fear of the consequences.

Fuck you Cartman.

/\/\/\

The girls noticed there was something wrong at work that night. I have to admit- I was pretty out of it, with everything going on. I ended up mixing up two different orders and giving a diabetic regular soda instead of diet. There were a lot of customers today too, which wasn't helping the fact I was so zoned out. Most of the other girls took my tables after I messed up a few times, so at this second, I only had two, both of which were just seated.

"Are you okay, Kylie?" Mercedes asked me as she put on her white lacey dress. I was hiding in the backroom when she came in for her shift. I look away from her.

"Yeah… I'm fine," I try to smile but it even looks half-assed. She looks at me worriedly after fastening the back clips and shaking out her blonde hair.

"You know you can talk to us about anything, right?" she blinks her large blue eyes at me.

Not everything- trust me.

I attempt to smile at her in thanks anyway. "Yeah… thanks, Mercedes. This is just something I have to deal with on my own."

She smiles at me warmly and rubs my arm. "Okay sweetie, just feel better."

At that moment, Porsche opens the backroom door and walks toward us, humming and smiling.

"What's up?" Mercedes asks, noticing her happy mood.

"Oh nothing…" she smiles mischievously at me, "Something just showed up that will fix Kylie's bad mood."

My heart begins to sink. What?

Mercedes, too, catches on to what Porsche is saying, "I'll take the last of your tables, Kylie, it's fine. Go have fun!"

"He requested you- that means he's interested!"

"Good for you Kylie!"

And before I can say a word in edgewise, they practically push me out of the room and (because of my klutziness in three-inch-high shoes) onto the tiled floor. Fucking heels.

"Ouch…" I curse. I look around the dining area- some of the nearby tables were stifling giggles at the clumsy redhead on the floor. It was only five o'clock- Cartman couldn't have been here already.

I stand up and brush off my skirt. After the incident with the college boys two days before, my bow had finally been sewed back on by Mr. Yamamoto. I adjusted my clothes and finally looked toward Cartman's normal seat. He was there, watching me with an evil smile on his face.

I literally deadpan, unsure of what I'm supposed to do. My feet slowly carry me toward his table as I scowl.

"What do you want?" I ask with as much hate as I can muster in a lower voice. His grin only seems to get wider.

"Why, _Kylie_, I didn't expect to see you here! What a pleasant surpri-ise!" he draws out the last word. His fake happy voice again. How I loathe it. I sigh, but he leans into me and lowers his voice, "What better day to take advantage of your _services_ if not today?"

I can't help but blush at the obvious sexual innuendo in his words, and I know he meant for it to sound like that. "I hate you so much," I say in return, glaring at him through my not-so-threatening red curls and lacey bows. His smile only seems to get bigger.

"Aren't you going to offer me the specials, _Kylie_?"

I grit my teeth and close my eyes, trying to forget it was Cartman I had to serve. I pull my notepad out of my front pocket and ready my pen to write down what he wants. "We have the mac and cheese, broccoli soup-

"I want ice cream," Cartman says suddenly. My eyes shoot open as I frown.

"It's barely five o'clock," I begin, my obvious contempt at being interrupted showing.

"So? Go get me some fucking ice cream, Jew," he pauses and smiles again. "Unless you want me to tell all these good customers exactly what you have hiding under that mini skirt?"

I growl, unable to do anything, and stomp off toward the kitchen. He wants fucking ice cream? I'll give it to him. I walk over to the counter in front of the kitchen and wave at our chef, Thomas, to get his attention. He looks up and smiles at me.

"I just got an order in for one scoop of every type of ice cream we have, with every topping," I say. Making Cartman sick would be quite rewarding.

Thomas blinks, "That's at least twenty one flavors," he twitches slightly. When I started the job, I recognized him as the boy with Tourette's I met many years ago- when Cartman pretended to have Tourette's. He was the one who helped me (Kyle) get all the perverts to walk into the filming of Dateline and interrupt Chris Hanson. He seemed to be getting better, but he still cursed sometimes without meaning to, hence why the manager decided to put him in the kitchen instead of seating people.

"Yeah- this guy is crazy," I lean in slightly and smile at Thomas, "I don't think he'd be happy with anything else."

Thomas nodded and cursed in one quick motion, and minutes later, a large platter with twenty one scoops (one of every flavor) topped with whipped cream, fudge, bananas, cherries, almonds, and every other topping imaginable came out of the kitchen for me. Cartman looked confused when I was carrying it toward his table, but he seemed to put two and two together quickly. He glowered at me.

"Sneaky Jew," he says as I put the plate on his table. I smile at his obvious annoyance.

"Bon appétit," I say in the most fake and high pitched voice I can muster, and turn around, ready to head back toward the kitchen for the next table over's order.

"Wait, Kylie, I have a great idea," Cartman says from behind me in his 'oh I'm so sweet and innocent voice'. I turn around and meet his eyes, slightly afraid of the sheer glee I can make out on his face. "_You_ can feed it to me."

"Excuse me?" I ask, sure I misheard him.

"You heard me, Kylie," there was an obvious glint in his eyes. "Obviously, you didn't read the rules of the restaurant before applying.

I try to think about what Cartman means- rules?

He points behind me at the backroom door. On the right side is the counter in the hole in the wall, which connects the restaurant with the kitchen, on the left side, was an elaborate black paper with pink writing on it entitled "What you can and can't do in Angel Morte!"

_1: Our waitresses can chat with you if you please, as long as the day isn't too busy. Just ask us to sit down and we will comply!_

_2: If you have a favorite waitress, you can request them. You can also request them in one of our many costumes. Along with Guardian Angel and Death Angel, we also have Playboy Bunny outfits, various oriental garbs and many more! (If you call ahead, we can preorder it for you!)_

_3: You can play games with our waitresses! Card games, 20 questions, anything is acceptable!_

_4: If you wish for help with eating your food, our waitresses can assist you!_

_5: NO TOUCHING THE WAITRESSES UNLESS SHE PERMITS IT. We have the authority to kick you off the premises if you try anything illegal._

_6: No smoking. Please and thank you!_

I stare at the sign, my mouth wide open. I'd worked here for two weeks and hadn't noticed the giant signboard next to my retreat?

What kind of sick, twisted person was Mr. Yamamoto for opening this kind of restaurant? It's just as bad (if not worse) than Raisins! It's, like, a step above a _brothel_!

Well, that would explain my pay.

I hear someone clear their throat behind me and slowly, I turn my head slowly around. He was smiling wide.

"So… _Kylie_…" he accentuates my fake name and picks up the spoon. "You were saying."  
I growl again and ball my hands into fists from habit, but quickly cool down and sit across from him. I can't believe for a moment I ever thought he was human. I snatch the spoon from his hand and dig it into the platter of ice cream. I hold the spoon like I'm about to gag him with it, but he stops smiling and narrows his eyes.

His words from earlier ring in my head.

"_And if you don't treat me right- I'll out you not only to the manager and your parents, but to the whole town. Understand?"_ I can't try anything funny.

I sigh loudly and place a hand under my chin as I reach my hand toward his mouth, spoon at the ready. He smiles again and opens his mouth.

I slowly place the spoon full of ice cream in his mouth and he closes his lip around the end of it. I blush- but more out of anger than anything. This is fucking humiliating. I grit my teeth as I pull it from his mouth- he's smiling.

I try to retain my composure- I don't want him knowing how disgusting he's making me feel, if he knew that, then he would win. I can't give him the satisfaction. I attempt to place the spoon in the platter again, but he reaches out and grabs my hand, causing me to drop it on the table with a loud _klank_.

His eyes glinted evilly as he looked at me. "This time, don't use the spoon." I blink, his grip on my wrist never letting up.

"What do you mean…?" I ask hesitantly, afraid of the answer. He sighs exasperatedly and takes my hand in his hand, his other still holding my wrist. He separates the fingers and pulls them downward. I brush the ice cream with my index finger.

No. No, no, no, no, _no_.

"You can't be serious," I say, hoping I'm wrong. He wants to be fed with my _fingers_? "You wouldn't…"

"I would, Kahl," he says, letting go of my hand and opening his mouth.

I close my eyes for a moment to calm myself. Breathe in. Breathe out. I open my eyes and dip my finger further into the ice cream.

You need this job. You need the money. You want to escape your overbearing family? Just do this. It's only a second. Get over yourself. No one knows it's you. Only Cartman.

And if you want him to keep it that way, you'll do what he says.

I reach out toward him with my hand and quickly place my index finger in his mouth. He closes his mouth around it, his lips pressing quickly against my skin and his tongue against the end. I blush ferociously and automatically pull my hand back, keeping down a squeal as my heart beat speeds up. He smiles at me, my insides grow cold.

He reaches out his hands toward mine, and pulls my right hand back toward his mouth.

"I'm still hungry, _Jew_," he says darkly, his breath hitting the back of my hand. I can't think straight- this is all too fucking ridiculous. He sticks his tongue out his mouth and slowly licks the back of my hand- tasting it. "And the taste of your complete surrender to me is so _sweet_."

I see white. Senses overload. I pull my hand back and practically fall out of the booth in an attempt to get away. I try to balance on my heels again- I'm getting looks from nearby patrons and waitresses. I hold my hand close to myself, like it was wounded instead of caressed, and stutter, "Ex- excuse me, s-s-sir."

I dash off into the backroom without even looking back. Soon, my back is against the wall and my butt is on the floor. I hold myself in the fetal position and bury my head in my arms.

That… was too much. There are lines. Lines I am willing to cross, lines I am not. That was a pretty fucking thick line! I HATE HIM! I FUCKING HATE THAT ASSHOLE!

I inwardly voice my hatred until I hear a voice in front of me, "Kylie?" I look up- it is Lexis. "That boy… Eric? He asked me to give this to you." She holds out a folded napkin with the name 'Kylie' scribbled on it. I blink and reach out, taking it from her, and unfold it. Two one-hundred dollar bills fall out and onto my lap. I blink and pick them up- they appear authentic. Lexis ooh's and aw's at the money as I glance back at the napkin, hoping for some explanation. There was an untidy message scribbled on it.

_--Kylie,_

_Today was so much fun! I look forward to spending much more time with you like we did today- it truly is the highlight of my week!_

_Although the end of the ice cream was a bit of a fiasco, maybe next time you won't have too much difficulty following direct orders. Hopefully this tip will make up for any misunderstandings._

_PS: Remember that leprechaun we were talking about a while ago? Well, this is so much more fun!_

_Be seeing you, Mr. Eric--_

I reread the letter and hold my stomach. Lexis is still here watching my reaction, except she's smiling. "He so totally likes you, Kylie! You should be thrilled!" She notices my green-looking appearance. "Oh my god, are you okay?"

I just wince from the pain radiating from my stomach. I'm going to be sick.

God damn you, Cartman.

/\/\/\

Author's Note: The restaurant Kyle works at is based off of restaurants like this in Japan. There are many where you can play games with the girls and talk with them. I have no idea if you can request outfits for them, though I'm sure there are places like that, I just am not sure, so that was mostly my horrible mind.

Beginning to think I'll rate this mature… haha don't know if tasting someone's sweet surrender is PG-13. I'm enjoying this fic too much.

Thank you for all the reviews and support so far- it really means a lot. I was beginning to think I'd lost the ability to have a plot that wasn't completely angst-filled and drama-ridden. :D

Love, OR


	4. Got a Secret, Can you keep it?

Author: OnigiriReject

Summary: Kyle is spotted working his job as a waitress by none other than Cartman. Will Cartman keep his secret? And what's with that smile of his?

Pairings: KyCart with undertones of Stendy.

~South Park and all characters belong to Matt Stone and Trey Parker, I'm just borrowing them for a little fun. ~

/\/\/\

Chapter Four: Got a Secret, Can you keep it?

/\/\/\

Conversation:

Mom: Bubbala, where are you going? Have you finished your homework?

Me: (Turns around, looking her in the face and smiling.) Yes Mother, I have. I'm just going to the large library in the next town over to study for the rest of the day.

Mom: (Smiling, obviously pleased.) Good job, Bubbala. Your brother would do himself good if he followed your example.

Me: (Walking out the door) Thanks mom, later.

That is my regular conversation with my mom on Saturdays. She never thinks anything of it, even though the reality is, I'm going back to work, at Angel Morte. Any way to get more money for my future, and away from her. She doesn't even care about me so much as my grades- I swear. Ike gets more attention than I do.

Plus, since it's a Saturday, I know Cartman has no reason to come to the restaurant, so I'll be safe from his disgusting ways… for at least one day. After that note he sent me (complete with a two hundred dollar tip), I'm a little worried as to what he has planned next.

In it, he said "maybe next time," is he planning on me feeding him again? Because, that will never happen again. Ever. EVER.

After getting off the bus with my backpack, the restaurant is in sight. Stark's pond was in walking distance, but the library wasn't, so just in case my mom checked in on me, I had to take the bus. I walk toward the brick building and glance around me, there was no one in sight. It's nine forty-five in the morning, the restaurant doesn't open until ten, we shouldn't have any customers yet. I quickly dash behind Angel Morte, near the garbage bins, and zip open my backpack where I had my uniform neatly folded on top of my books. I take another quick glance around the area and pull off my jacket and shirt.

Now bare-chested, I stood in the snow, trying to find the top of the dress. I shivered slightly- it was pretty cold.

"So I guess you really aren't a girl," someone says near me. I freeze. You've got. To. Be. Kidding. I swivel my head around and it is, indeed, Cartman.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" I yell, pointing one of my clothed hands at him. He snickers.

"I could ask you the same thing, Jew, this is a place wear _girls_ work," he looks me up and down, "And apparently you aren't one."

I blush and attempt to pull on the uniform. I finally get it over my head as a shower of my curls falls in my face. "Fuck." Cartman is laughing. This is degrading.

I attempt to ignore him as I pull off my jeans and pull on the stockings. I might have to act as a girl, but I was not shaving my legs. It was enough I had to shave my underarms for the uniform- I wasn't going to turn into a complete girl.

I ask Cartman, "So were you following me?"

He smiles and stuffs his hands in his pockets, "Don't flatter yourself. I was on the bus, you moron. I saw you and figured you were going to work- and I was right."

I twist my face in annoyance. Had I really been that out of it not to notice him? Both of my stockings are on and now I try to pull on the black three inch high heels that are the bane of my existence.

Eventually after much pulling, I get one on both feet and I stand up, facing Cartman. Last was the bow, I pull it behind me and tie it loosely. "Is there a reason you're here?" I ask rudely. It was awkward how he was watching me.

He crosses his arms and turns around, walking toward the entrance of the restaurant. He calls back to me, "I want some fucking coffee."

I roll my eyes and sigh, stuffing my regular clothes back into my bag. I walk toward the employee entrance in the back and take out a key I had in the front pocket of my bag, unlocking the door.

Soon enough, I hear Thomas and Mr. Yamamoto driving up. It's ten o'clock and I have to open the front door; Cartman was waiting (seemingly patient) at the door. I narrow my eyes at him and open it, bowing as low as my body would let me so Mr. Yamamoto wouldn't see my grimace.

"Good morning, sirs," I say in my high-pitched voice, still facing the ground. I sneak a glance upward as Cartman and Thomas enter, and I can see Cartman laughing to himself. I tighten my grip on the hem of my dress and stand upright, smiling at Mr. Yamamoto.

"Good morning Kylie, you were here early," he smiles warmly at me.

"It's no problem, just wanted to get a start on the day," I smile back at him.

"And you know," he lowers his voice and leans into me, "I heard from the girls that you have your eye on that one," he motions his head in the direction of Cartman. I grimace and feel my cheeks heat up, "I'm perfectly fine with you dating customers, just make sure it doesn't infringe upon your duty to the restaurant, okay? Keep him here and paying for your services." He laughs to himself and walks past me as I stand, dumbstruck by the stupidity of it all.

I can't believe the other girls. I'm blushing again- this really needs to stop. I turn back around and face Cartman's booth. He was strumming his fingers against the table with his back toward me. I slowly walk over to his table.

"What do you want today, Cartman?" I ask half-heartedly. I only came early to _avoid_ him.

"Oh, I'm sorry, what was that?" He cups his hand around one of his ears and plays like he didn't hear me.

I roll my eyes, "What do you want today, _sir_?"

"Oh, why I'm glad you asked Kylie! Coffee."

As soon as the words leave his mouth, I'm back at the kitchen counter asking for a coffee and trying to walk back into the backroom before Cartman can get a word in edgewise. Mr. Yamamoto was readjusting the sign next to it.

"Kylieeeee…" Cartman's stupid 'nice' voice carries through the room. I stop and grumble to myself, turning around slowly. "Will you please come keep me company? Maybe, play some _games_?"

Mr. Yamamoto stopped adjusting the sign to glance over at me. I couldn't leave Cartman after I had obviously heard him, and Mr. Yamamoto seemed to be waiting for me to walk back to the table. I inwardly sigh and walk back to Cartman's booth, my heels clacking all the way.

I sit across from him, my back rigid and my hands folded in my lap. Similar to how I sit when I speak to my mom- it's all to keep her happy. I grow slightly sad to think about it, then try to force my face back to neutral instead of frowning. I look up at Cartman and notice he isn't smiling. Instead, he's staring at me intently, his face looking like he was thinking hard about something.

It briefly crosses my mind to ask him why he tipped me two hundred dollars. I mean, don't get me wrong, I need the money, but still, why did he give _me_ two hundred? If anything, I thought he'd request my 'services' for free. And two hundred is a little much for any waitress! That's more like a prostitute's tip!

…Which is basically what I am for having to _hand feed_ him yesterday. I fucking scrubbed my hand so much after I went home, I rubbed it raw.

I look down and one of my red curls falls in my face. He is the only customer in the restaurant and I am the only waitress so far- Mr. Yamamoto retreats into the backroom. The silence grows between us and I can hear Thomas in the kitchen pouring the coffee. I get up before he rings the bell and walk over to the counter, picking up the white tray Thomas had set out, full of sugar and cream and the steaming hot cup o' joe. I carefully walk back to the table, being sure not to spill anything on my way. The last thing I wanted was to trip and spill all the coffee right in front of Cartman- he would laugh his ass off.

I reach my destination and set it down on the table, then I sit across from him again and face him. He picks up the coffee and drinks it straight without so much as sniffing it. He gulps it for a while, then puts the cup back down. I glance at it- he drank half of it.

I look back up at him and again, he's staring at me.

"Wh-what?" I ask. His look was giving me the creeps. He looked bored, like he was trying to find something interesting to do. He reaches his right hand out toward my face and I close my eyes instinctively as I flinch.

He finally speaks, "…Why is your hair so long?" he pulls at one of my ringlet curls. He adds in a lower voice, "It's no wonder I mistook you as a girl for a while. Who knew how much hair you had under that stupid hat." I move my head out of the way and retrieve my lock of hair from his fingers- close contact with Cartman is nothing I want to be involved with.

"I just… didn't cut it," I start, looking anywhere but at him. I tuck the loose strand behind my ear. "I got really involved with school for a while, and kinda forgot about it. I mean, I can just stick it in my hat, so what's the big deal?"

He looks me over once and sighs, "Whatever you say, Jew." He crosses his arms, "So, what is so important that you decided to keep a job that you have to wear a dress for? Is your family really hit that bad by the recession? What are you working so hard for?"

I'm surprised- I wasn't expecting him to ask that. No one had asked me why I was working hard before. They just sort of expected me to work hard, without having a reason.

It is silent for a little before I answer. "I'm… going to pay my way through college," he doesn't appear phased and seems to be waiting for me to continue. "I don't want to have to depend on my family… for _anything_," I say, sounding darker than I meant to. I look into his eyes again. He appeared bored.

"Got sick of your mom?" he asks, not meaning for it to be completely serious. I blink and look down in my lap again.

"…Yeah, actually," I say quietly. No one knew about how bad my family had gotten. Not even Stan. Why am I telling Cartman?

Suddenly, I remember something Cartman had told me when I was Kylie. About his mom being away. "Is… your mom back?" I ask delicately.

"No," he answers defiantly, in a way that lets me know not to ask anymore questions. I decide to change the subject, and I look at where his black eye was a few days before.

"Does your eye still hurt? It doesn't look as dark anymore," I notice. It was true, over the last few days it had been fading away.

Cartman suddenly looked very uncomfortable. I forgot- he got hit when I was Kylie. Suddenly I'm embarrassed- I said 'thank you' to him! Shit. I definitely wouldn't have said it if I was Kyle. Even if he saved me- how many times have I fucking saved him? He has to save me a good thousand times before I even consider it.

I feel the air grow heavier with tension as I squirm uncomfortably in my seat.

"So you took this job to get away from your mom?" Cartman asks. I'm surprised that he's speaking again- he takes a sip of his coffee.

I nod once. He smiles at me- I felt my insides clench. "That's good," he says quietly, almost like I wasn't supposed to hear him. He puts the coffee to his lips again.

Wait, what does he mean that's good-

"Morning everyone!" a girl's voice says as the front door opens. Both Cartman and I jump and look over- it was Porsche. She glances in our direction and sees me. "Oh- Kylie! No one did your makeup this morning! Come to the backroom really fast, you can come right back out, I promise!" She clacks her heels against the tiles as she swiftly walks across the floor to the backroom.

I look back over at Cartman and he's stifling a laugh. "Makeup?" he asks, putting his head in his hand as he continued to smile evilly at me. I frown at him.

Truthfully, the girls realized early on that I was pretty hopeless when it came to makeup and doing my hair, so they offered to do it for me. They gave up on my hair and thought to just to put a few ribbons in it and hope for the best, but someone usually did my makeup for me.

"I'll be right back…" I stand up and look back at him, narrowing my eyes, "_Mr_. Eric."

One step out of the booth and my heel catches on a tile- I'm falling again. I reach out my hand to grab on the table, but instead, it's met with another hand. Cartman had stood up as soon as he saw me falling and tried to catch me.

I don't hit the floor- his hand caught me just in time. I stay suspended in the air for a brief moment, my eyes wide and looking at him, bewildered he caught me. He, too, looks surprised for a brief moment, but he quickly pulls me upward and I find myself pressed against his body with my head two inches from his.

"You're such a fucking klutz…" he says, half smiling as if he was amused by the fact I fell again. "Kylie."

My face heats up again. I'd like to see _him_ walk in three-inch heels. Why is it everytime I do something stupid, he has to be right there? I put my hands on his chest and push him off.

"Whatever asshole," I say quietly so only he can hear. I readjust my skirt and look at him again. "You're free to leave anytime you want."

I turn on my heel and slowly (so as not to fall again) proceed to the backroom.

/\/\/\

Porsche is asking me to pucker my lips as she applies some sort of cherry flavored clear substance. I'm only half listening to what she's saying- I'm still trying to think of ways to get out of serving Cartman. I can't very well say he's sexually harassing me in a restaurant like this. Maybe I could say he's stealing?

"So is that guy out there the one who tipped you two hundred dollars?" she asks. She removes the applicator from my lips and screws the cap back on.

I quickly realize she was asking me a question, "Wait- what?"  
"Lexis told me some cute guy tipped you two hundred dollar last night…" she gestures at the door. "That was him, right?"

'Cute guy'? Lexis has questionable taste. "Erm… yeah, that was him."

She cocks her head to the side and looks at me quizzically. "You don't seem too interested…"

"I'm not!" I suddenly shout, clenching my fists together. Porsche looks startled. I quiet my voice slightly. "I'm sorry… but everyone has just freaking assumed I like him, when I don't!"

Porsche says, "Oh my god, I know what you mean. One time this guy tipped me a lot and he was uber creepy, and no one believed me that I didn't like him at all!"

I sigh. I forgot briefly that it was Porsche that I was talking to, who wasn't the sharpest tool in the shed to say the least.

"Yeah, well… I don't like him. At all. He just likes me as his waitress."

"So…" she starts, "You wouldn't mind if I moved in on him?"  
I blink.

"…No… not at all." Why did I have to think about that? It should be 'NO YOU CAN HAVE HIM!'

"Aww Kylie, you're such a sweetie!" she says, grabbing me and pulling me into a tight hug. She smiles, showing rows of perfect teeth, lets go and opens the door, leaving.

I sigh loudly and hold my head. This is becoming too weird.

A minute later, I quickly push open the door and glance out, spotting Porsche sitting at Cartman's booth, next to him, and chatting him up. Cartman looks up and sees me, so I quickly shut the door again.

I'll just wait till he leaves… I sigh and sit on the floor, my dress poofing out onto the tiles. I look up at the big clock- it was only eleven in the morning.

Little did I know then just how angry Cartman would be that I somehow gave Porsche the idea that they totally belonged together.

/\/\/\

Sunday, I didn't work; I had too much homework to do. I told my mom I did it on Saturday (while I was really at work), so the only way I could get it all done without arousing suspicion would be late at night when my mom was asleep. I was so tired I had almost completely forgotten about Cartman and Angel Morte.

But then, Monday rolled around.

"Wake up, Jew," an angry voice hissed in my ear. I lifted my head off my desk and faced Cartman. He was uncomfortably close as he leaned into me- he was sitting in Stan's chair while Stan was over with Wendy.

"What do you want, Cartman?" my words slurred together slightly. I had gone to bed at four am after finally finishing all my homework, and the next morning at school was like torture.

No one was looking at us- they were all too busy jabbering on about their various weekends and what they did.

"Do you realize…" he starts in a low voice, "How long I had to talk to that _dimwit_ on Saturday?"

I blink- I don't know.

"I don't like spending my Saturday mornings talking to sluts," he says dangerously, narrowing his eyes and looking at me coldly. Kenny glances over at us for a second, quizzically, but turns away again as he eyes Bebe's cleavage. The ice begins to form again, "You can't just shirk your responsibilities, Kahl. The rules are you have to be _my_ waitress and serve _me_, sending other bimbos to do it just won't cut it. I should tell the entire class you're a fucking tranny just for what you did."

My mouth drops open, he can't be serious. "Look, it's not my fault Porsche likes you! She fucking wanted to go talk with you, who was I to stop her-

"I didn't want to talk with her!" he retorts, slightly louder. "You're the only one I fucking wanna see while I'm there, don't you get it? I only go to see you. I don't want the other ones serving me, are we clear?"

I growl and cross my arms. He smiles, "Good, now you understand. And as punishment for not obeying my rules before, there's something waiting for you at Angel Morte tonight."

My heart sunk. "What?"

He smiles, "Oh, you'll find out soon enough, Kylie." With that he lifts his head out of my personal bubble and stands, and walks out the classroom door. I blink- what the hell did he do? Maybe I shouldn't go to work today.

"Hey, Kyle," someone says from my right. I look- it was Stan. "What was that about?"

Wow, he actually took time out of kissing Wendy to talk to me? "Nothing," I say sourly, leaning down to unzip my bag.

"Oh… well anyway, Kenny and I are going to Eterna Town, the next town over, this Saturday to check out the new arcade they just built, you wanna come?"

"I can't, sorry," I say without thinking about it. I pull out my copy of Crime and Punishment. I have work this Saturday anyway, if Cartman didn't ruin it for me. "Did you invite Wendy?"

Stan shifts side to side and looks slightly uncomfortable at this question. "She's starting a new job soon, so I won't get to see her as much." He looks sad, I almost feel bad for him. Almost. "We can hang out another time though, right?" he asks hopefully.

"Sure dude, sure," I say dismissively.

He smiles at me and hits my back. I smile back, feeling slightly guilty that I can't tell him why I've been MIA for about a month now. But, because he's Stan, he doesn't ask questions.

That night at Angel Morte, I forgot all about Stan and his woes as I cursed Cartman's very existence. I forgot about rule number two until that moment.

2: If you have a favorite waitress, you can request them. You can also request them in one of our many costumes. Along with Guardian Angel and Death Angel, we also have Playboy Bunny outfits, various oriental garbs and many more! (If you call ahead, we can preorder it for you!)

I hate him. So much. I had originally written down in my application that I was not comfortable in wearing cleavage-showing dresses (mostly because I had none), but Cartman found a way around it by paying Mr. Yamamoto one hundred extra dollars. He requested to see me in the Guardian Angel costume, complete with white feather wings and tall white go-go boots.

"I fucking hate you," is the first thing I say when I arrive at his table. He has such a self satisfied smirk, I have to restrain myself from hitting him across the face with my plate.

"Why Kylie, you look so cute," he says. My cheeks flush in anger.

For some reason, thank you God, there were a lot of patrons that night, so I didn't have the time to just speak with Cartman. I had to attend to the other customers as well, so even if I was wearing the revealing outfit he had so evilly requested, I didn't have to speak with him too much.

That night, I had barely noticed that there was a new girl working there. It wasn't until closing time that we actually saw each other that it occurred to me who exactly it was. From behind, I noticed she was my height and had long black hair. Mr. Yamamoto gave her the Guardian Angel outfit to wear.

Luckily, I'd only have to wear this uniform one day. I wasn't nearly chesty enough to have pulled it off. It was closing time and the customers finally started to die down. As I bring more dirty dishes into the kitchen, I see the new girl again. I recognize her face.

Oh shit… it's Wendy. She glances over at me briefly, and her mouth drops open.

"Kyle?" She asks loudly. Fuck. The other girls turn to look at who she's speaking to.

"Wendy? Oh-it's-been-so-long-let's-talk-over-here!" I say in one breath as I rush over to her and pull her out of the restaurant through the emergency exit.

As soon as we're outside, I wheel on her, "What are you doing here?"

"I could ask you the same thing, Kyle. Why are you dressed like that?" she asks, looking just as confused as I am.

"I work here," I hiss at her. Shit. Will she tell Mr. Yamamoto?

"Well, as of today, so do I," she says, folding her arms.

I blink, she can't be serious. "Bu-but I thought you'd say all this was degrading to women and so on!"

"Well, I could, but I need the job…" she doesn't elaborate. I sigh.

"Well, so do I…" I look at her pleadingly. "Are you going to tell everyone?"

She blinks, "Do you want me to?"

I shake my head vigorously and she laughs, "Well then I won't," she says simply. My eyes go wide.

"Really? You'd be okay with me working here, even if I'm a guy?"  
"As long as you don't tell Stan I work here," she adds.

What? "Why not?" I ask dumbly.

"Because…" she bites her lip, "I don't think Stan would be too keen on the idea of his girlfriend dressing up in scantily clad costumes and serving horny boys coffee."

I smile at that- she has a point.  
"Okay, I promise!" I say happily. I'm really grateful she wouldn't tell anyone- I have to trust her. We walk back inside and I catch a glimpse of Porsche talking with Cartman again. He didn't look pleased as she kept chatting away about nothing. I sigh and walk over.

"Porsche, the other girls are talking about you… something about an affair with Mr. Yamamoto?"

She looks at me and gasps, "Oh, I'm going to kill Mercedes for telling everyone!" She gets up and quickly runs toward the backroom. I wasn't too worried about her finding out it was a lie, if I knew her, she'd probably see something shiny and completely forget about it.

I look down my nose at Cartman, who looks slightly relieved. He runs a hand through his short hair and glances up at me.

Before he can say anything, I say in a cold voice, "You're welcome," and turn around. I walk toward the backroom without another word.

/\/\/\

/\/\/\

Author's Note:

Ahh so I feel like maybe I should list the small references I've made so far, since some people actually got them without realizing they were references versus coincidences.

Yes, I'm a japanophile, like Trey Parker, and I feel blessed to be able to understand all the Japanese they use in the episodes thanks to three years of studying it!

1: Angel Mort is the name of a maid café in my favorite anime Higurashi no Naku koro ni, and they have to dress up in the frilly waitress outfits. I'm cosplaying at Otakon this weekend as Shion, and have been making her dress for two weeks now, hence why I put Kyle in it. It was more of a joke between my friend (who I've forced to read this) and I.

That's also why I made the owner of Kyle's restaurant Japanese, and changed the name slightly.

2: Eterna city is a city in Pokémon Platinum. Yes, I still play the games. Yes I realize they're for children but they're fun.

There are probably more that I can't think of right now. :D I'm taking a slight break from 1.5 MPH for another week or so while I'm at the convention, but I might write another chapter for this, solely because I know what's gonna happen.

Tell me if you'll be at Otakon!

Love, OR


	5. Help me I'm Still Alive

Author: OnigiriReject

Summary: Kyle is spotted working his job as a waitress by none other than Cartman. Will Cartman keep his secret? And what's with that smile of his?

Pairings: KyCart with undertones of Stendy.

~South Park and all characters belong to Matt Stone and Trey Parker, I'm just borrowing them for a little fun. ~

/\/\/\

Chapter Five: Help me- I'm Still Alive

/\/\/\

Never in my life did I think I would be in Victoria's Secret, at the only mall in South Park, with Wendy of all people. Shopping for a girl's bra with a girl _should_ be the fantasy of every teen boy. That might have been the case if the bra was actually _for_ Wendy.

"Kyle, have you looked over here?" Wendy asks as she pops around a mannequin in a black lacy thong. I keep my head down and walk toward her. There is anything else in the world I'd rather be doing right now. Studying, eating glass, even serving Cartman at Angel Morte. Anything except… _this_.

Wendy holds up a pink training bra with bows and looks at me, "It should fit you…" she holds it up to my chest and I look away. She notices the annoyed look on my face and pouts. "Kyle, I'm doing this for you. If anyone else you know saw you the way I saw you the other day, it would be completely obvious you were Kyle Broflovski and _not _a female. This is just an extra precaution to make sure you can keep your job. I just have to tie my hair back and I'm fine but… your body isn't even the right shape for those dresses. Would you rather everyone find out you cross dress in your spare time?" I sigh and shake my head.

She put the hanger back on the rack and continued down the aisle, stopping at a black bra. "A bra will just help you… 'fill out' so to speak." I follow her begrudgingly and sighed as she held the black bra up to my chest.

"You know the Guardian Angel one isn't my normal outfit, right?" I begin, trying not to be blinded by the vast amounts of pink and lace in the store. Wendy continues to look around the walls, pushing hangers back and forth, not paying me any attention. "That was just a one time thing because-

"This one might work… hold it," she drops the atrocity in my hands and walks quickly out of the aisle, leaving me, the only male in the store, with a lacy hooky contraption of some sort. I blush as I look at it.

It has hooks. It has straps… this part would go over my chest. I handle the cloth curiously and notice that its not just thin cloth, but has something big and squishy inside of it. What the fuck is this… padding? What, for protection? Like an air bag or….

"Kyle- I thought that was you!" I freeze and slowly turn around, like deer trapped in the headlights. Surely I misheard the voice. It couldn't have been.

I see an orange coat and blonde hair bounding up to me from the entrance, followed by a boy with black hair and a brown coat.

Oh no. Oh no no no _no_…

"What are you even doing in here?" Kenny asks as he finally reaches me. He and Stan look completely out of place in the hot pink store. Stan, behind him, looks quite embarrassed. Kenny smirks and tucks a blonde lock behind his ear, "Shopping for some girl we don't know about?" he looks down at the black padded bra in my hands and grins even wider. "Or maybe…" he lowers his voice and looks up at me again with his piercing blue eyes, his face looking much more evil than the minute before. "You have a secret fetish for lacy things…"

"It's-" I say loudly as my face quickly changes colors to a deep scarlet, "I-i-it's not mine! It's… it's…" I look around and attempt to think of a quick cover up. Fuck. How am I going to get out of this one? Why the hell do all these people I know pop up at exactly the wrong time?

Kenny continues to smile as Stan begins to look confusedly between me and the black thing in my hands. As soon as I'm about to throw it and walk out, the worst possible person returned from her voyage further into the store.

"Kyle, I have a couple more, maybe we can go to the dressing rooms-" Wendy looks up from her arms full of more lacy padded things and notices three things. One, me, appearing completely flustered. Two, Kenny, smiling and widening his eyes at her presence, as if he was completely amused at the situation and her appearance was nothing more than a pleasant surprise. And three, her boyfriend and his mouth dropping open.

Instead of saying anything, Stan just looks wildly between me, his best friend, and Wendy, his girlfriend. And the million of bras she's holding. What is going through his head right now, I'm afraid to find out, but by the lack of color in his face, I can assume it's nothing good.

"Oh," Wendy finally let's out a soft sound, realizing the predicament we're in. I look at Stan and take a step toward him.

"Stan…" I begin, moving a hand forward. I quickly realize I'm still holding the bra, and throw it to the side like a hot coal. "It's not what it looks like…"

He appears to be going through some severe inner turmoil as he looks away from Wendy and I, and instead at the floor. He clenches his fists tightly for a moment, then turns on his heel and runs out of the store.

"Stan!" Wendy and I both yell at the same time as he runs into the mall area and out of sight. Some other shoppers are looking at us. Kenny stands in the same place and shakes his head, sighing.

"Both of you- chill. If Kyle is telling the truth and it's nothing, he _is_ your best friend," he says, nodding at me, "And your boyfriend," he nods at Wendy. He smiles again. "It'll be fine. Just let him run for a little and let off some steam. Otherwise, he might come back and kill you, Kyle," he says, winking and turning around. He slowly strides out of the store, leaving Wendy and I gawking after him.

Before I knew it, that Wednesday turned into Thursday, and that Thursday turned into Friday, and Stan had been avoiding Wendy and I in a completely obvious way. If anything, he looked more confused than angry. I would be lying if I said that this had happened before. After all, we'd been best friends since forever. If he really was thinking what I think he was thinking, he was thinking that Wendy and I were lingerie shopping for her. Quite the opposite. Although there's no way I could tell him that… therefore I'm stuck.

The bell rings through the halls as I sit up in my chair, ready to run over to Stan. I look over at his desk- too late. He's already out the door.

I sigh. Fuck. Will he ever speak to me again?

"Kylieee…" a voice says in my ear. I jump about three feet away and glare at Cartman.

"What the hell do you want?" I glower at him. He's smirking. People around us don't even notice- they're too used to this sort of thing.

"I just thought you could deliver this message to 'Kylie' for me," he says happily. I resist the urge to smack him in the face. "Tell her I'll be at Angel Morte tonight. She's working, isn't she?"

He lifts his hand toward me, like he's going to hit me. I wince and the ice forms in my chest again. I feel something lift the hat off my head and I open my eyes. Before I could say anything, he'd removed my hat and lowered his face into mine. He tugs at one of my newly-freed locks of hair and smiles mischievously. The icy feeling captures my chest as my eyes widen.

"And could you remind her," his voice is dripping with venom, "That we have a deal she must uphold." He's too close. My breath quickens. "Eight o'clock." All at once he lets go of my hair and turns around, briskly heading out the door like nothing just happened. He throws my hat behind him and it lands on the floor.

I stand very still for a moment, like a rabbit caught in the fox's gaze, and finally slow my breathing to normal again. I truly am in hell, and just so happen to have to entertain the devil every night.

/\/\/\

"Is that Cartman?" Wendy asks from over my shoulder. I nod silently as we both continue to peer out of the backroom door at his booth. He's sitting there, smiling to himself. Looking very content. How much I wanted to punch his face in.

"Ironic, isn't it, that the two people he hates most in the world now have to serve him," Wendy says quietly, almost like an afterthought.

I bite my lip. "Well… he still doesn't know you work here. And I'm not about to tell him, so, technically, _you're_ safe."

She pauses and flips me around, the door shutting behind me, and my dress poofing every which way. Her long black hair is pulled into a high ponytail in the back with a big bow holding it in place. "You mean…" she glances around the backroom at the other girls changing, "He knows who you are?"

I lower my gaze, not wanting to see her worried expression, and nod. She lets out a long sigh. "I'm sorry, Kyle."

"Yeah well, it's my fault for being so careless I guess…" I say half-heartedly. I really don't want to go out there and attend to Cartman's every need again.

"But, you don't have to serve him all the time, do you?" she asks hopefully. "You could just send out one of the other girls some time-

"He requests me, Wendy," I say. I feel my spirits sink even further as I say the words out loud. "Mr. Yamamoto thinks it's great for business, you read the rules, didn't you?"

She nods and furrows her brow as if she's thinking hard. I interrupt her train of thought, "And before you think of anything else we could do, he knows my secret. He's threatened to tell everyone unless I do everything he says. I'm stuck."

I want to change the subject. I'm already fully aware of the dimness of my situation; I don't need to be reminded of it from explaining it to Wendy. Cartman hadn't even been to the Angel Morte since Wendy started working here, so I guess seeing him was a little bit of a shock to her.

I hear Mercedes blathering on about some rich guy who keeps buying her chocolates. I lower my voice in case any of the girls are eavesdropping, "Have you… been able to talk to Stan?"

Wendy blinks then frowns, a look of sadness overtaking her fair features. "No… he just said he had to think about stuff then ran off… And well, he should trust us. I mean, he's known us for how long? If he really thought we were doing something like that, then he obviously doesn't know us very well."

I nod in agreement- she's right.

"And, besides," she adds, smiling, "From your afterschool activities, I doubt that you're into the one with the two X chromosomes anyway."

I feel myself blush, "Just because I work here doesn't mean I like guys! I have my own reasons for working here, like you do!"

She laughs, "I'm kidding, I'm kidding."

The door opens behind me and Mr. Yamamoto sticks his head in. "Kylie?" he asks.

I shoot Wendy a quick look then turn toward him. "Yes, sir?"

He frowns, "That Eric customer is asking for you and you still haven't served him! What are you doing back here? Go entertain him! Go, go, go!"

He grabs my hand and pulls me out of the backroom and away from safety. Soon I'm out on the restaurant floor. I glance up at the big clock, it's ten past eight. He's right on time.

My heels clack against the tiles as I walk toward his table, finally glowering at him as I reach him. His smile only seems to get bigger.

"Why, Kylie, I'm so happy to see you," he says, obviously mockingly. His sugary sweet voice is getting on my nerves more than usual. "I had to order food from that _slutty_ waitress from Saturday, and do you remember when I told you how much I dislike her? I much prefer your company-

"Save it Cartman, I'm not in the mood," I say darkly as I sit across from him. His smile falls and he scowls at me.

"I didn't say you could sit down, Kahl," he says in his normal voice. A hint of irritation is present. I would smile if it weren't for the fact I'd had a rotten last two days.

"I don't particularly care," I reply, putting my elbows on the table and resting my head in my hands. "You asked for me, here I am. What do you want me to do this time? Hand feed you some more ice cream? Or better yet, how about I decorate all the food you get with swastikas?"

A wrinkle appears between his eyebrows as he narrows his eyes at me. For a moment, I think he's going to snap back at me.

"Things not going well with Stan?" he asks quietly, the annoyance still present on his face. My eyes widen in surprise- I certainly wasn't expecting that.

"Since you asked, no they are not," I answer shortly. Like I was going to give him anything else he could use as ammunition against me.

He sighs and closes his eyes, leaning back into his cushioned chair. "Let me guess- he's avoiding you and won't listen to you explain yourself about something stupid you did."

Sometimes I forget how smart Cartman actually is. I mean, he thinks up very elaborate revenge schemes and traps all the time, but I never took him as something other than dirt on my shoe. Therefore when he says something very smart and perceptive like that, I get thrown off guard.

He smiles at the surprised look on my face. "I've known you both for how long? You're both so fucking easy to read it's ridiculous."

I blush. He continues, "Anyway, get over it. It's just Stan. If he won't talk to you then just ignore him, he'll come crying back to you eventually. He always did to Wendy.

"…And besides- frowning is very unbecoming of a waitress, Kahl." He smirks at me.

Was… was he _teasing_ me? It didn't sound like it was supposed to be mean. Was he… trying to cheer me up?

My insides grow cold again.

"Now, Kylie," he says in his fake sugary sweet voice again, "Would you be a dear and fetch my coffee? It is your job, you see."

I glare angrily at him as I stand up and balance on my heels again. Asshole.

/\/\/\

I return to the table ten minutes later and Cartman has his copy of Crime and Punishment out again. I place the coffee down in front of him and sit in my usual seat. "Anything else I can get for you…" I pause, "sir?"  
He smiles malevolently; he's obviously enjoying how annoying this all is for me. He puts the book down and takes hold of his cup with both hands. I look at the book for a moment as he takes a sip and think back to when he first came to Angel Morte the weeks before. It's hard to believe at some point he was actually nice to me and truthful. He even admitted he was lonely when his mom wasn't home… he never did tell me if she was back or not. He wanted to drop the subject as soon as Kylie was gone and Kyle, his favorite toy, took her place. Stupid Cartman.

"You obviously like that book," I say quietly. He moves the cup away from his lips and looks at me curiously.

"It's about a man who goes crazy and kills an old pawnbroker, then the rest of the book is about him dealing with the guilt and the people around him dealing with the death. Why wouldn't I read it?" He proceeded to take another sip.

"If you read it, why did you act like you didn't?"

That caught him off guard. He was probably hoping I'd forgotten that tiny detail.

He put the cup back down on the saucer and shot me one of his worst looks. "I do not want to talk about this, Kyle, as I told you before. If you continue to bring up subjects that I am not willing to discuss, then all your efforts so far will have been in vain, and I will tell everyone anyway that you dress up in girl clothes in your spare time."

My mouth drops open, then I clench my fists and growl. He. Is. So. Infuriating.

He smiles, happy to regain control of the situation. Why the fuck won't he tell me? It's not like it's a big deal! I was just trying to make conversation and try to be civil for once. If I'm stuck in this hell, I thought to try and make the best of the situation, but no. Fucking argh. He takes a sip of his coffee again.

As I'm fuming, Porsche comes to our table, "Kylie," she begins, batting her eyes like she wants something. I'm not in the mood. I'm about to yell at something. "Remember that thing you and I talked about? Well, now would be a good time for it to start," she winks at me, obviously referring to the fact she was interested in Eric. I don't want to deal with this.

She continues while squishing her boobs together with her arms, "I'll take good care of Mr. Eric, so you can just go to the back and get another customer-

"Mr. _Eric_," I begin, seething. I'm mad. Too much is going on. Porsche has rotten timing when it comes to approaching me. "Requested _me_. As he does every time he comes here. He wants to see _me_, sorry Porsche. He's more interested in our _lovely_ conversations than yours, so why don't you _back off_ and let us enjoy our evening?"

If a loud silence weren't a completely hypocritical statement, then I would say that moment had to be the loudest silence I'd ever heard. It echoed in my ears as Porche's eyes watered and she stomped away to the back room. Customers and waitresses alike stared at our table. I didn't even want to see the look on Cartman's face as he eyed me, confusedly.

There went my only chance of avoiding Cartman at work. As time seemed to pick up moving again, I let my head fall against the table with a loud _klunk_ noise.

"Are you high?" is the first thing Cartman asks. I don't respond. He sounded like he was laughing, "I didn't think you'd actually pay attention to the fact I didn't want her around… I thought I'd have to be the one to tell her off. You just saved me a lot of trouble. Good little waitress Jew, your secret is safe for now-

"You… drive me crazy," I say angrily, without thinking about it. I sit up in my chair and face him, not looking to happy. Cartman stops speaking and looks at me, confused.

"What did you just say, Kahl?"

I blink- not realizing I had said that out loud. His face looked severely confused, and there was a slight pink tinge to his cheeks. I'd really thrown him off guard. Why did what I said confuse him so much?

We continued to stare at each other awkwardly for a minute, the restaurant still bustling around us. I would have repeated my statement to him, but he looked so god damned confused it was almost funny.

I smile at the look on his face. "Now you're acting like you did when you thought I was a girl." He sputters, looking embarrassed and turning red. This is fun.

"Sh-shut up Jew," he says, looking away. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out his wallet, opening it quickly, yanking out some money and throwing it at me. "…you're relieved of your services for today, Jew. Go entertain some idiots, I'm going home."

With that, he got out of his chair and briskly headed toward the exit. I blinked, watching him until he was outside and out of sight.

I look down at the crumpled up bills on the table. I reach toward it and flatten them, realizing he had put down two hundred dollars. My mouth falls open.

It's like… what he did before. Surely it must be a mistake. He didn't mean to put down two _hundred_ for just a cup of coffee. I glance up toward the exit again where he last was, and frown.

Even if he is Cartman, I can't just take his money like that from a mistake. I'll just get his change and return the rest to him at school on Monday. He definitely didn't mean to tip me two hundred dollars…

/\/\/\

/\/\/\

Author's note:

I'm tired and have an enormous headache. Sorry it's taken so long to update, but I literally have been so busy I haven't even been able to touch my laptop.

Otakon was great. Cosplaying was amazing, especially in Kyle's waitress outfit for the most part (since it was based off of Shion's from Higurashi, and I was her. Kyle is right- those heels are a bitch.) As far as I could tell, I was the only South Park writer at any of the fan fiction panels. I went to two of them, one on how to write fan fiction, and one on how to write lemons (of all things). It was more of a 'how to write a believable relationship that involves sex'.

I got to ask a question. "What about if the characters supposedly hate each other?"

The three in the panel all pause and smile, and answer in sync, "Angry sex."

Also got the Higurashi no Naku koro ni video game, so I've basically been in the magical world of Japanese for a few days… I'm just really tired.

I should be updating at a normal speed again soon. ごめなさいね。

じゃあ、

-お握りリージェクト

(Sorry. Later! –OnigiriReject)


	6. Jackets and Turnabouts

Author: OnigiriReject

Summary: Kyle is spotted working his job as a waitress by none other than Cartman. Will Cartman keep his secret? And what's with that smile of his?

Pairings: KyCart with undertones of Stendy.

~South Park and all characters belong to Matt Stone and Trey Parker, I'm just borrowing them for a little fun. ~

--

Chapter Six: Jackets and Turnabouts

--

How did I get myself into this mess?

I'm standing in Eterna Town, the town that Angel Morte is on the border of, along with South Park, in my black waitress outfit, holding a sign up advertising the Angel Morte and shaking like a drug addict from the cold. People are walking by, this is humiliating and not how I wanted to spend my Saturday.

How did this happen again?

--

"_Kylie!" Mr. Yamamoto says in front of all the girls in the backroom. "I need you to go into town to advertise the restaurant. It's Eterna Town, you'll be right near the mall, right in the heart of the city. You'll be in your work outfit," he smiles toothily, " that will certainly attract attention for the restaurant."_

"_Why me?" I ask, frowning. It's colder than usual outside. I don't want to be wearing my waitress outfit while it's snowing._

"_Because the other girls have all done it at least once, and your usual customers don't appear to be here today," I assume he's talking about Cartman. "So this way will earn you more money."_

--

I shiver and watch a couple walking by, holding hands, with large comfy jackets on. Fuck my life. I clench my fingers on the sign post and sigh.

It's fucking cold. I glance at the large clock on a post nearby. It is 4:00, I was ordered to stay here until 5ish. Then I could go home. How I longed to sleep in my large, comfy, warm bed.

People walking across the street stare at me, and laugh, most likely at my ridiculous outfit. It was in the beginning of February. What was Mr. Yamamoto thinking in making me wear my waitress dress?!

I sighed and put the sign down for a moment, rubbing my hands together and breathing on them. I was near the new arcade, the large library and a few restaurants. Businessmen walked by me and smiled. I attempt to smile back but my face is so cold I think it froze in place. My heels crunch the snow underneath.

"Hey cutie," a voice says behind me. I pick up my sign again and turn around, facing a blonde boy in an orange jacket. Oh shit, it's Kenny.

"Ke-kenny?!" I say really fast, my face turning red. He sees me! Shit, how am I going to explain this on _top_ of the bra?! More importantly, why is he here?

He blinks and looks me in the eyes, "How do you know my name?" he smiles.

…he doesn't recognize me? Granted, Wendy stuffed some socks down my front today so my body looks slightly more girlish, but still. First Cartman, and now him?

He narrows his eyes and grins at me, straightening his back. "Well, I am pretty well known around here…" he sideways glances at me and closes his eyes in a smug gesture, "You know… for being great in bed."  
Alright, I'm done. This is too weird. "Oh will you look at the time?" I say in my high-pitched voice, turning my back on him and trying to stroll toward the direction of the bus stop. "I have to be leaving soon-

"Aw- come on," Kenny says, catching up to me in two quick strides. The heels make it difficult to walk fast, and I'm the shortest out of the four of us anyway. Damnit. "You wanna go to the arcade with my friend and I? It'll be fun. What games do you like?"

I deadpan. A 'friend' and Kenny?

Wait… Eterna Town… Stan said…

"_Oh… well anyway, Kenny and I are going to Eterna Town, the next town over, this Saturday to check out the new arcade they just built, you wanna come?"_

…Mr. Yamamoto stationed me near the arcade. No shit.

"Well, it sounds like fun," I say quickly, glancing around to make sure Stan doesn't see me. Cartman and Kenny are one thing, but Stan is my super best friend. If anyone, he would recognize me in a dress. "But I have to get back to the restaurant-

"You work at Angel Morte?" He asks, looking up at the sign I was holding, which had _'Come to Angel Morte! Good food and gorgeous girls obeying your every whim!'_ scrawled across it in Mr. Yamamoto's messy handwriting.

"Yes, and I have to get back there, right now-" I turn around and bow to Kenny, remembering Mr. Yamamoto's policy about potential customers. "So maybe I'll see you later!"

"Yeah, later cutie," he half grins at me, his blonde hair falling in his face. If I was a girl, I might have flushed and gotten completely embarrassed about how hot he was and the fact he was speaking to me, blah blah blah, but I'm not, therefore his patented flirting technique did nothing for me. "I'll come by some time."

Please don't, I silently beg, and with that I took off down the street and around the corner of a restaurant, hiding myself, and my sign, in the shadow. It wasn't five yet, but I couldn't take the cold or the abuse any longer. I had to go home.

It was slowly getting darker outside and I glanced around my surroundings, running my hands up and down my arms to retain warmth. My breath hung in the air as I looked for the direction of the bus stop.

"Dude, you should've seen her! She was a cute little redhead, in full waitress uniform, you don't see too many of them out these days!" I heard a voice from the other side of the building. It was Kenny- I craned my neck to get a better listen in.

"I don't care, Kenny, can we just get some food?" It was Stan- I froze in place. I was hidden from sight, so they definitely wouldn't see me, but still…

Kenny sighs. "Why are you in such a bitchy mood? You're worse than Wend-

"Don't mention her," Stan snaps suddenly. He sounds bitter.

"Are you dumb or something Stan? She and Kyle aren't cheating on you, so get over yourself and stop avoiding them-

"How do you know, Kenny?!" I flinch at the anger in Stan's voice. "You saw them! Wendy would never take me bra shopping, why would she take my best friend unless there was something going on!"  
"Look Stan, I don't know why they were like that, but the reality is Kyle is your best friend and Wendy is your girlfriend. Do you genuinely think they would hurt you like that?"

"I don't know what to believe anymore," Stan says quietly. I feel a pang at my heart- he really can't trust us? "All I know is they're hiding something from me… I know it, and neither one would tell me what it was…"

Their voices grow distant as I realize they are headed toward the direction of a burger joint down the road. I'm sad. Stan knows Wendy and I are hiding something, but he's completely wrong about what it is. I wish I didn't have to hide this from him…

I begin to walk toward the bus stop as night falls around me, inwardly wincing at the pain of the heels and the cold around me. Being early in the year, it gets dark a lot quicker. By the time I reached the bus stop about fifteen minutes later, it was pitch black outside except for the streetlamps. The snow crunched under my heels and I cursed my existence.

Please come, bus, I'm cold and tired… I shiver again and my teeth chatter.

"Hey, cutie," a voice says from my left. I glance over and see two teenagers, slightly older than me, leaning against the building in the shadows. "What're you doing out at this time of night?"

I narrow my eyes, not even wanting to deal with these idiots, "I'm going home," I say shortly, and turn my back on them, my eyes facing toward the street. I realize then that I accidentally left Mr. Yamamoto's sign leaning against the restaurant. Shit.

Suddenly, one of the boys is on my right and the other is on my left. They're smiling and circling me.

"Where exactly is home?" the one on my right says. He appears to be Hispanic. Both the boys look dirty and greasy- not the type I want to be dealing with right now.

"None of your business," I'm not intimidated by these assholes. I just want to be home in my bed as soon as possible. But, I'm not about to go back and get that sign… it's too dark and with these two around, I'd rather stay near lights…

"Well, we could take you, ya know, if you wanna hang with us for a little bit," the other boys says, he has sandy blonde hair and licks his lips. "You know, fool around…"

Fuck this dress and my heels. I would tear them off and prove to them how _not_ female I was then and there, if these clothes weren't the only thing keeping me alive in the bitter cold.

"No thank you," I say stubbornly. The Hispanic boy snakes his hand around my waist. I flinch and step backward.

"Come on babe, don't be like that," he smiles and takes another step toward me. It just occurs to me how absolutely alone we are on the street.

"Don't touch me," I warn them. Even if I wasn't a real girl, if these guys are more interested in my mouth, then it doesn't do much good. I shiver again in the cold, the blonde one notices.

"You cold, honey? Want us to warm you up?" He stretches out his arms in the position like he was going to hug me. I step backward toward the building- I'm beginning to get scared. The looks they were giving me contained everything except good intentions.

"Maybe you could come with us…" the Hispanic boy looks me up and down again, "We'll have some fun." I've faced death many times before, but nothing scared me like these boys watching me like I was a delicious meal. I couldn't move.

"Hey Kylie, ready to go?" it is a voice I recognize. An arm is placed around either one of mine and a head appears over my shoulder. I'm suddenly very warm, and grateful for the heat.

I am surprised- it's neither one of the boys circling me, for when they saw the person around me, they looked surprised. I turn my head and look at the person holding me. I recognized those brown eyes- it was Cartman.

"Hey buddy, what do you think you're doing?" One of them asks. Cartman was bigger than him. I can feel his breathing against my back- his hold around me tightened. The warmth felt so good, I decided to let him keep hugging me, even though I didn't know what he was doing exactly.

"I'm seeing if _my girlfriend_ is done with her shopping so we can go back to my place, what's it to you?" he said in a dangerous tone, and even if I couldn't see his face, I knew the look he was giving the thugs. I had been on the receiving end of that look too often. They looked scared.

"Girlfriend?" one of them asks, looking between Cartman and me. "Out here at night, dressed like _that_?"

I can feel the vibrations of his voice through my whole body, "How she dresses is none of your concern. Now, if you could please _get lost_," he presses his lips against my ear in a possessive gesture. Chills travel down my spine, and not from the cold. "We have shit to do."

"Whatever," the blonde one says. I close my eyes, "…let's get out of here."

I open my eyes and see them retreating into the darkness down the street, leaving Cartman and I alone under the streetlamp. He's so close I can smell his musky cologne- surprising considering I never thought Cartman to be the one to wear it.

As soon as the thugs were out of sight, he chuckled and said in my ear, "You just attract the wrong sort of attention, Jew-boy."

I push him off of me as quickly as possible and put my arms around myself protectively. I'm bright red and no longer freezing. "W-w-what…" I begin, stuttering. I can make out Cartman's smug smile in the darkness. "What was _that_??"

He crosses his arms and sighs, "I couldn't very well have let those guys take advantage of you, Kahl, otherwise you would've never come back to work and I would no longer be having as much fun." My embarrassment quickly turned into annoyance as I watched Cartman explain it like it was the simplest thing in the world. The coldness of the air hit me like a bucket of cold water.

I shiver again, "Fu-fuck you," my teeth are chattering.

He cocks his head and glances down at me, "What are you doing out here dressed like that anyway?" The ice I always get when Cartman's in close vicinity forms in my chest again.

"Mr. Yamamoto wa-wants to promote Angel Morte," God why am I stuttering like an idiot?? "And it was my t-turn to co-come out here li-like this, and h-hold the sign."

Cartman continues to smile at me as I try to warm myself. It's getting bad. Where's the fucking bus?

I scowl at Cartman in his red coat, "Wha-what are you doing out here anyway?"

He rolls his eyes and pulls his hands out of his pockets- he's holding his mittens. "I was at the arcade and stupid fucking Stan and Kenny showed up, so I left and wandered around the town for a while. Then I saw some assholes hitting on you. What do you care?"

I rub my hands together and close my eyes. It's so cold.

"Here, idiot," Cartman says shortly. I open my eyes just in time to see a pair of mittens flying in my direction. I catch them and look up at Cartman, who was unzipping his jacket. I blink as removes it's entirety and thrusts it at me, not looking at me, exposing his black t-shirt underneath that I'd seen oh-so-many times under his unbuttoned coat at Angel Mort. He waits a moment before saying, "Do you _want_ to freeze?"

I look down at the red jacket- it doesn't seem to have any bombs on it, or poison devices or trickery of that sort. He really was just giving me his jacket. I pause for another moment before slipping my right arm into the oversized sleeve, followed by the left. I quickly hug the coat around myself and shiver as the warmth engulfs me. I feel the coldness melting, both inside and out. I make a content noise and Cartman laughs at me.

"This is what you get for taking on a job that has a dress code for waitress dresses," I would scowl at him but I'm so grateful for the jacket, I instead just glance helplessly in his direction.

Suddenly, I remember something. I was supposed to give something to him…

"Oh!" I say loudly, he jumps back quickly, obviously not expecting that reaction. I point at him, "I need to give you your money back."

He blinks, a confused look on his face, "What money?"

I make a face at him, "The money you gave me yesterday? As a tip? You accidentally gave me two hundred."

A look of understanding flitted across his face, followed by another scowl, "No I didn't."

"Yes you did, I left the money at home because I wasn't expecting to see you today, but I'll bring it Monday-

"No," he says, shaking his head and placing his hand on his head in an annoyed gesture. "I mean it wasn't an accident."

I paused and looked at him again. The rays of light from the lone streetlamp cast a shadow across his face, so I couldn't quite see his expression. "But… why would you," I accent the words carefully, "want to give me… two hundred dollars?" I fail to mention that this was the second time that happened.

He shrugged his shoulders, "It's a tip. Be grateful. I'm one of your only customers, and I know those dipshits who try to look down your front aren't tipping you too much. Just accept the fact I'm paying you for your services and be done with it."

Well, yes, he's supposed to tip me, but why two hundred? It doesn't make sense.

"Just fucking deal with it, Jew. You are all so cheap I thought you'd be grateful to get so much at once," he grins at me.

"Fuck off, fatass!" I say before I can stop myself. My fists clench up and my eyes narrow, but I quickly release my grip and sigh. This may be Cartman… but… I grip at his jacket around me and pull it even tighter. But he has done a lot for me. Granted, it doesn't count out the fact he's tried to murder me over a hundred times, but right now… I don't feel like wasting the energy.

"Sorry…" I say quietly. I suddenly feel very awkward, standing in my waitress dress and heels in an overly large jacket, under the light of the streetlamp on a deserted street with no one but Eric Cartman. The whole situation was very hard and when I was younger, never in a million years would I have guessed I'd see him every day and serve him food while wearing a dress.

I begin to question what I did in a past life that made me deserve this.

Cartman is eyeing me, I keep my gaze down for another moment, then look up at him. "Aren't you cold?" I ask.

"I don't get cold easily," he replies matter-of-factly, still looking at me. I feel myself turn red under his gaze- the look he was giving me was strange. Suddenly he reaches out his hand and tugs at one of my loose, red locks of hair.

He'd done this before, so I wasn't too surprised, I just closed my eyes and sighed, "What are you doing?"

"Entertaining myself," he answered plainly, pulling the curl all the way down and letting go, watching it bounce back in place. He smiled slightly. "Now I know why you keep it all under that stupid hat."

I glower at him, realizing I was in no position or state of mind to argue with him. He tugs at the lock again and I watch his breath leave his mouth and hang in the air like a white cloud.

I could hear a large vehicle approaching from the distance as two lights come toward us. It was the bus. I pull my head back from his head and walk toward the signpost indicating where the bus came, Cartman following close behind.

It rolls to a stop in front of me and creaks open the door, letting a puff of warm air waft out toward us. I walk on and drop bus tokens in the machine, enough for Cartman and I, and grab a seat toward the middle of the bus. There weren't too many passengers- I vaguely wondered what time it was, since it was so dark outside. An old lady glanced at me as I sat down, but looked away quickly.

Cartman followed me down the aisle and sat next to me. There were a million open seats- why did he have to sit next to me??

"Cartman…" I said, narrowing my eyes at him. I wondered what he was playing at, yet I was too tired to fight him right now.

"We're getting off at the same place," he said quietly, looking me in the eyes. "This way, when you fall asleep, you won't miss your stop."

I blink, surprised he was thinking about me. Was this how he treated every girl? Or was it just Kylie? When I dress like this, he seems to let his guard down so much more… I pull his jacket tighter around myself and break our eye contact.

"…Thanks…" I say numbly as I close my eyes and let my head fall forward. I'm so tired- working overtime lately, while serving Cartman and trying to keep my secret… well, a secret, has been wearing me out. On top of schoolwork… luckily my mom hasn't been speaking to me as much recently because I'm always at Angel Morte, so that's one bullet I've dodged…

I breathe in and out and listen to the sounds of the other passengers on the bus, and think about how hard it was to believe that I was thanking Eric Cartman of all people…

--

"Jew, wake up," my pillow says.

"Mrah?" I reply, my eyes not quite open. Something grabs my hand and pulls me upward, I open my eyes a little and see myself getting pulled off the bus and into the cold. I trip on the ground as soon as the bus' door closes behind me.

"Kahl?" something says from in front of me. I'm cold, it's warm. It grabs my wrist again. "We're back- come on, you stupid Jew."

I am being yanked upward off the ground. The bus drives off behind me. I grab the thing pulling me upward and try to stand without falling again. Heels… right. I'm in my waitress outfit…

"Now which way is Angel Morte?" The thing asks. I walk forward into it and lean my head against its' shoulder. It looks down at me. "Kahl??"

I blink and tilt my head upward, my eyes are met with Cartman's. He's very close. "Ca-Cartman?"

I have a feeling of déjà vu. I remember a time, back in fourth grade, when Stan, Kenny, Cartman and I were trapped in a cave thanks to Al Gore. It was the Cave of the Winds- that time, too, when I was sleeping; I had woken up to Cartman's face very close in my own. To this day, I still have no idea what he was doing.

"Are you awake yet?" He asks. There was no derogatory ending. No 'Jew, asshole, bitch' ending to the sentence. Surely I was dreaming.

"Barely," I rub my eye and notice I have a very long sleeve on my arm. Right- Cartman's jacket. "Want your jacket back?"

He frowns at me and narrows his eyes, "Dumbass. I'm wearing jeans, you're wearing a skirt. Who do you think needs it more?"

I think through what he says and realize how retarded I must seem sometimes.

"And anyway," he continues, "We're close to the restaurant… You can go in and change and I can go home and sleep."

I nod slowly, tiredness still wafting over me. I don't feel like arguing with Cartman right now…

"What time is it?" I ask, looking at the dark sky. Stars were shining brightly- it was a clear night, to say the least.

"Almost eight-o'clock."

Fuck, I curse to myself. My mom will be wondering where the hell I am… I told her I'd be home by now.

"Come on, Jew," Cartman says from ten feet down the road. It looked like we were dropped off near the edge of town. Why didn't Cartman just wake me up and take the bus further in town to go home?

Cartman continues to walk toward the sign that says 'Welcome to South Park' and I pull his jacket tighter around me, clacking my heels against the pavement after him.

--

Author's Note:

I guess I didn't make this clear in the last chapter- in case people don't know what a Victoria's Secret is, please go google it and look at what the store looks like. Kyle and Wendy were not simply in just a 'clothes store', which it appears many people think from the reviews, but they were in a putrid pink lacy store with naked women on the walls and mannequins adorned with thongs and it smells like lots of perfume and they sell furry handcuffs and whips in the back.

Victoria's Secret is a chain undergarment store aimed toward women that (I guess) is more popular in America, usually seen in malls. If you have not seen what one of these stores look like, or their commercials on TV, then you truly are missing out on Kyle's horrible experience in the last chapter.

Okay as I update this… I'm very tired. If there are any mistakes feel free to write it in a review and I will fix it tomorrow morning when I regain the ability to think clearly.

Much Love,

OR…zzzz…..


	7. Two Steps Forward, Three Steps Back

Author: OnigiriReject

Summary: Kyle is spotted working his job as a waitress by none other than Cartman. Will Cartman keep his secret? And what's with that smile of his?

Pairings: KyCart with undertones of Stendy.

~South Park and all characters belong to Matt Stone and Trey Parker, I'm just borrowing them for a little fun. ~

/\/\/\

Chapter Seven: Two Steps Forward, Three Steps Back

/\/\/\

It's quiet. The snow is falling peacefully outside, and Cartman hasn't said a word to me since the bus dropped us off. Luckily I was the only person in the backroom, so I didn't have to change outside in the cold. My whole body is suddenly warmed by the fact I was wearing more clothing- my ears particularly grateful for the flaps on my green hat. I walk back outside with my backpack on and see Cartman waiting under the streetlamp.

When I walk toward him, he notices me, then turns his back on me and continues down the road, toward our part of town.

What does he want from me? Obviously something, otherwise he wouldn't be putting up with all of this.

"Um…" I begin awkwardly, following him through the darkness. I couldn't think of what to say.

"We should be there in about twenty minutes. It'll be faster now that you're not in heels," he responds quickly, not once turning to look at me.

He continues walking forward. The only time this kid has ever been nice to me is when he's about to do something particularly malicious, so I can't trust him to be genuinely kind. Ever. I learned that many times over when I was young and stupid.

He doesn't reply, or slow down in his step. I realize he hadn't asked for his jacket back. It was in my bag. "Do you want your jacket?" I ask, walking faster so as to be beside him instead of trailing him.

He sideways glances at me as I catch up. He shakes his head, his hands in his pockets. "Not really, no."

Silence falls between us again. How did this all happen anyway? Right- he's my customer. I need the job. To date… I've saved up five hundred dollars, not counting the two hundred Cartman just said was mine…

"Cartman," I begin, "Can you _please_ tell me why you're being so nice to me?" I try to catch his eyes, which was hard to do in the darkness. There was the vague light coming from faraway buildings, but otherwise all we had was the moon.

He looks like he's thinking hard, then answers slowly, "I don't feel like wasting my time tonight."

I blink- not exactly an answer, but close. His eyes look distant. How much did I actually know about Cartman? Not enough to know his genuine motives for everything. He was really good at lying and tricking people, and I'd fallen for his lies more than once. This was Cartman after all… but, he didn't seem to be lying about this fact.

I yawn- I, too, am tired. Hopefully in the time we have to walk back into town, he won't try to kill me. I'll… trust him, for now. The busy area of town where Angel Morte was finally ended, now, a snowy landscape surrounded us. It would have looked very pretty if I wasn't completely used to it by now.

It's quiet between us again- the only audible sounds were a faint car alarm in the distance and the snow crunching under our shoes. I vaguely wonder if my mom has called the cops yet. If I weren't careful, she would drive down to the library I was supposedly at and rush in, yelling for her 'Bubbala.' I can already hear what she's going to say when I get home.

'Oh Bubbala, where have you been? You said you'd be home hours ago, just look at what a mess your room is!' I cringe as I think about how she'll continue. 'You need to take some time out of playing with your friends and do your chores!' (When was the last time I'd hung with my friends?) 'Have you studied yet, today? I know you were at the Library, but did you remember those math problems? I'll just test you tomorrow on it, be sure to go to bed early. Blah blah blah…'

There was a reason I'd always left my cell phone at home. I found out a few months ago she'd put a tracking device in it, and anytime I left the vicinity of home or school, it would alert her. What kind of parent pays the phone company to completely limit her child's freedom?

I smile grimly to myself and glance at Cartman again. I have to admit, I'm slightly envious of him.

After all, his mom wouldn't do that. His mother wasn't an overbearing _bitch_ (dare I agree with his choice of words for my mom), and his mom never made him work until he was completely miserable.

…Actually, I don't think she'd ever made him work. It was common knowledge Cartman has always been a spoiled brat, that's how he became the psychopath we all know and hate today. She might be the only human being that he didn't completely hate. He might have been a major asshole, but no one could say he didn't love his mom.

I'd asked him a few weeks ago about his mom… if she was back. She hadn't been around recently, as far as I knew. She'd always been known to go off to different men's houses while their wives were away and live with them until the wife got back.

That was partially why the Cartmans were so hated in South Park, the mother was known as a home wrecker… the other reason they were so hated was the boy walking next to me. When I was Kylie, he admitted he got lonely sometimes, that's why he went to Angel Morte. For people. Was he… still lonely now?

I look over at him. "How's your mom?"

He looks like I slapped him instead of asked him a question. His face distorts in anger, "How the fuck should I know, you fucking Jew?"

My anger gets the better of me. "Fucking Christ, Cartman! I was just asking!"  
"Well it's none of your God damn business so keep your nosy Jew nose out of it!"

I'm silent again, and seething. I'm too exhausted to bother arguing further- my curiosity really got the better of me that time. Cartman, too, appears not to want to argue, and cools off slightly. He looks angry. "She's…" he says carefully, obviously trying not to lash out again, "safe. Somewhere in town." He pauses. "I haven't seen her for three weeks."

"Three weeks?" I say before I can stop myself. He looks annoyed again. We walk by the old toy store and the twenty-four hour drug store, the abortion clinic on our left. We're coming up to the school, and walk by Principal Victoria getting into her car and starting the ignition.

Cartman decides to change the subject. "Where does that bitch think you are when you are actually working?"

I ignore the derogatory name he dubbed my mom, "She thinks I'm at the library." Cartman snorts.

"Hardly," he says, still smiling. "That bitch would flip out if she ever found out you were a tranny."

I don't smile back. If she ever found out, it would be because Cartman told everyone. Cartman notices my solemn look and his face falls.

"Well, as long as you're a good little Jew and do what I say, you won't have to worry about it," he says, looking serious all of a sudden, "Do you understand?"  
The icy feeling grabs hold of my lungs. I couldn't deny it- Cartman scared me. Even when he was being nice to me, he was still Cartman. He still could expose me and ruin everything. I clench my fists and bite my lip so I won't retaliate.

He cocks his head, watching my reaction curiously. "God, you really are Jewish, so greedy and cheap. Just to care so much about getting money that you'll go through anything to get it-

"_I just need the money, okay?_" I quickly yell at him. I feel the blood pumping through my veins in rhythm with my heartbeat. He stops walking and looks at me, quizzically. He pushed a nerve he had no idea existed.

"Still gonna pay your way through college?" he asks darkly.

"Of course! I don't want anything to do with my family after high school!" I shouting back defiantly, feeling my whole body heat up from the anger. I was so mad. How _dare_ he think I want the money because I'm Jewish? Fucking Cartman- he has _no idea_ what it's been like serving him and working my ass off for the money, so I can get away from my stupid ass family! NO IDEA! He has absolutely _no_ right to condescend me like this- even if I'm tired and he's been nicer to me than usual, I can't just let it slip by!

"Fu-fuck you!" I yell at him. I want to drop it. I don't want to think about it. I just need to keep working for my goal, with no distractions or sidetracks. He's looking at me coldly with his brown eyes.

"Whatever, Kahl, just get that sand out of your vagina," he says, looking bored. He begins to walk back down the street, leaving me stunned at his response. He didn't yell back?

"I don't have sand up my vagina!" I say almost childishly. Suddenly, I realize how deserted the street is without him next to me. I run up behind him and walk a good four steps behind him, not wanting to speak with him. Why the hell did we have to live in the same direction?

It's silent again. God how I hate the silence. Actually, god how I hate everything. I'm too tired to even think rational thoughts now. Great. But, I especially hate the bastard walking in front of me. Asshole, I say in my mind to him, hoping he can telepathically hear my insults. Fatass. Bastard. Anti-Semitic, lazy, good for nothing…

I can see my house on the edge of the street. We'll be separating soon enough. I practically sprint the last block to my house.

"Oh and Jew?" Cartman says from behind me in the darkness. I stop dead in my tracks and turn around. He's smiling maliciously again, his teeth shining through the black of the night, "Be seeing you."

I feel sick. With that, I flip him my middle finger and run toward my house, pushing open the front door and running in. I shut the door behind me, putting a solid wall between me… and the boy I detest.

"Bubbala? Where have you been, it's almost eight thirty! You said you'd be home ages ago," here comes my mom, running toward me and sniffing my face to see if I smell like alcohol or drugs or something. She smiles approvingly, noticing my backpack, and adds in her annoying bossy voice, "You got a lot of studying done today, Kyle?"

"Yeah, Mom," my mom is practically the only person I know that I'm taller than, but her hair makes up for it. I don't look her in the eyes. "I'm really tired actually, I'm just going to sleep."

She smiles, "Oh, bubbala, did you get something to eat?"

"Yeah," lies. "They have a café next to the library, I got a sandwich there before I came back," more lies. I'm getting better at lying, too. Maybe it's from being around Cartman so much.

"Alright, well, goodnight. I'll go over your homework tomorrow," she kisses me on the lips before I could avoid it, and I make a mad dash for the stairs, wiping my mouth on my sleeve. "Oh and, Kyle?" I stop halfway up the stairs and glance down at her. "You're retaking the SATs in the end of March, I'll put the date on your calendar."

I can feel my blood boiling. "Right, Mom. Night."

Before I know it, I'm in my room, closing my door and locking it. The only real privacy I'd ever had from her. I had to fight to get a lock on the door a few years before, arguing I was a teenage boy and I needed my privacy. Dad agreed to it before she did, lucky for me, and in the end, I got a lock.

I plop onto my bed and lie down, closing my eyes. It really sucks being the only kid in the house now. My brother, proving to have been a genius at a young age, was offered to attend some prestigious academy for gifted children. I mean, yeah he's a genius. He was an eleven year old and had skipped all of middle school, so he was my grade in school for one year. At the end of last year, he proved he didn't have to go into eleventh grade (while as I did) because he knew all the material already.

Ike may have been more into sports, but his brain capacity was such that it rivaled many famous scientists. So, he got to leave the house and live in the dorm, leaving me as the only child. And my mom to push me to become just as smart and successful as he was, hence why she was cracking down on me this whole year about SATs and such. Last year, when he was accelerated into my grade, was when her craziness started…it just got worst this year.

And, is essentially what led to me serving Cartman coffee while wearing a maid's dress. Fucking economic recession- why did it have to close down all the restaurants that didn't force me to wear heels?

I open my eyes and grab my cell phone off the table next to my bed. I flip it open- two new text messages.

First one is from Kenny. Lucky for him, one of the girls he went out with for a week was rich and bought him a phone. She never asked for it back, so now, even though he's poor, he gets to keep it.

'Talked w/ S 4 a bit, shud forgiv u soon. U owe me!'

Second one is from Stan.

'We need to talk.'

I smile. Kenny probably knocked some sense into him and everything is fine now… If that is the case, then I really do owe him.

I pick up the phone and press speed dial 'two' for Stan.

_Ring. Ring._

"Hello?" He sounds tired.

"Hey, dude…"

"Kyle!" Stan says loudly, I move the phone away from my ear drum, "Dude, I'm really sorry I haven't been talking with you lately, but when I saw with you with Wendy, I just didn't know what to say and-

"Chill Stan, chill, it's okay!" I put the phone on speaker and place it on my bed while I unzip my jacket. "Thanks for texting me though… I wasn't sure you'd ever speak to me again."

"Kyle, I'm sorry. I should've trusted you…" he sounds remorseful. I smile- that's Stan. I'm glad he's my super best friend.

"Yeah, dude. It's okay I mean, it must've looked suspicious…" I pause and sigh. "I'm sorry but I can't actually tell you what I was doing there."

He pauses, "You weren't there to watch Wendy try on bras, were you?"

"GOD, NO!" I practically yell, pulling off my t-shirt. Stan laughs.

"Then we're good," I know he's smiling and I laugh. "Look, I'm sorry we haven't been able to hang recently, but I'll make it up to you. You wanna come over and play videogames with Kenny and I tomorrow?"

I pause, "No Cartman?"

"No Cartman."

"Then I'll be there."

/\/\/\

After hanging up with Stan, I realize I should probably get some homework done, since even though I told my mom it was done, it wasn't and it needed to be for Monday. I unzip my bag and notice there's a large red coat in my bag. I sigh- I forgot to give it back to him.

Shit. I pull it out of the bag so as to get to my homework and fold it neatly in my lap, feeling how cozy it was. I suddenly had the urge to smell it.

I brought it to my nose and breathed in, then sighed. It smelled like Cartman. Which wasn't exactly a bad smell, I just didn't want to think about him. He is so fucking frustrating sometimes I don't even want to deal with it. I put the coat on my bed and get to work on my homework.

/\/\/\

Two days later, after an awesome day of hanging out with my two best friends and doing nothing but chilling, it's Monday and I have school.

I had to stay up all Sunday night to finish all the homework I said I did on Saturday, but it was totally worth it. Now, I'm dead tired with my head down on the desk.

"Kyle?" I look up- it's Wendy. She looks thrilled. "Stan forgives me, he talked to you, right?"

I close my eyes again, "Yeah, he talked to me yesterday. Everything is accounted for, no need to worry…" I sit up and look at her, "Does he still not know what your job is?"

She looks ashamed, "No, he has no idea. And I intend to keep it that way… I don't think he'd be too happy seeing my work uniform."

I nod. He might have forgiven us about the bra incident, but luckily he was pretty oblivious when it came to what was actually going on.

She smiles again, showing every one of her sparkling teeth, "I'm glad that he's gotten over it though, thank you for keeping my secret."

I smile back, "No problem. You might want to make sure Cartman doesn't find out though… you have no idea what hell he's putting me through since he discovered I dress up like a girl for work every day."

"What're you two talking about?" Stan snakes his arms around Wendy's waist and puts his head on her shoulder, causing both of us to jump.

"Nothing, sweetie, don't worry," Wendy says, pecking Stan on the cheek. He seems content with that answer. He looks over at me and frowns, like he's thinking hard. He reaches into his pocket.

The bell rings, signifying English to begin. Many students scramble to their seats. Cartman run through the classroom door, followed by Bebe as Mr. Garrison walks over to it to shut it. He snaps at them, "Eric and Bebe, you should be here earlier! Kids in seats, kids in seats."

Something white flies across my vision and lands on my desk. It's a note. I look to my left and see Stan waving at me to open it as Cartman walks behind me and sits at the only empty desk left. I unfold it and there's a scrawled paragraph that takes up half the page, with many parts crossed out and underlined.

_-Kyle: so, again, sorry about the whole thing with Wendy. You really are my best friend. I mean it._

_But anyway, I don't really know how to go about asking this, since I've never had to before, but… okay, look, I noticed that lately you've been kind of distant, so I figured something was going on. I just wanted to tell you that you can talk to me about __anything__! I mean it! Okay?_

_Write back, this stupid English class will make me fall asleep anyway.-_

I smile as I read it. I take out my pen and begin to write back as Mr. Garrison talks about our test coming up.

_-Thanks Stan. Yeah, I know you're here for me, I really appreciate it. But there's just some stuff I have to deal with on my own. Whatever, that's life. Thank you though, for forgiving me too.-_

I throw it back at him. I get a reply soon enough.

_-Are you sure? You've been looking more tired lately. I know we haven't been especially close in the last year… was stuff okay then?-_

I swallow.

_-Family stuff. You know, Ike going away and all, but that's about it. Nothing too bad. I've just been studying a lot lately.-_

_-I get the feeling you aren't telling me something.-_

_-Well, truthfully, I am not telling you something, but it's not a big deal. I'll tell you sometime when it's all over… but for now, it's staying with me. Okay?-_

This time, it takes Stan a while to write his response. When I get the paper back, I notice he's not looking at me.

_-Are you gay?-_

Why do I feel like he's been meaning to ask me this for a while? I reply quickly and almost knock him in the head with the folded piece of paper.

_-No. Well, I don't think I am. I've never especially liked a girl, or a boy, so you can't really say which way I swing.-_

I hear Stan breathe out a sigh of relief and he looks back at me, smiling.

_-Good. I'm just glad I didn't miss a huge newsflash like that or something.-_

"Are you sure?" Cartman breathes in my ear, causing me to jump in my seat. I hide the note and shoot him a scathing look.

"Am I sure what?" I ask angrily.

"Are you sure you're not a fag?" He showed his Cheshire cat smile and my insides froze. He was reading the note?

"Fuck off," I answer plainly, turning my back on him.

"Let me see the note, Kahl," he whispers in my ear. Chills travel up and down my spine. He's so close; I can feel his body heat… and his lips brushing my ear. I am vaguely reminded of Saturday, except this situation is so different.

"Why should I?" I answer calmly. Stan hasn't looked over at me yet- no one is noticing how odd Cartman is acting.

"Because if you don't, I will go up to the board and tell everyone to go to Angel Morte tonight for free sundaes on your paycheck."

My mouth falls open. I turn my head slightly to look him in the eyes, "You wouldn't."

His eyes looked determined, "I would. And, think about it, it would not only be your secret being exposed, but Wendy's."

…He knows about Wendy working there too?

"If all Wendy does is pull back her hair, it's very easy to tell it's her. While as no matter what you do, you'll always look gay," he answers simply, his mouth curving into a wider smile.

I'm stuck. I sigh and pass him the note. He hums happily and snatches it from my hands, unfolding it and scanning it quickly before handing it back.

"God, you two are such fags, it's unbelievable," he says, leaning back into his chair. I'm bright red. I look over at Stan, who hadn't appeared to notice the whole ordeal.

Something lands on my desk, but this time it flew from behind. I scowl and pick up the paper. It was Cartman's messy handwriting.

_-So, you're sure?-_

I write back quickly and throw the paper over my shoulder, not caring where it lands.

_-It's none of your god damn business.-_

_-You're avoiding the question, Jew. Are you sure you don't get a giant hard-on from dudes?-_

I feel myself growing redder by the second. _–I'm sure that I am not gay, asshole.-_

He quickly writes back.

_-Are you HIV positive?-_

I crumple up the paper, turn around and bean him in the head with it. I know he's laughing. Class had gone by and no one saw Cartman make a mockery of me once again. Too bad this wouldn't be the last time he'd embarrass me today.

I'm not happy.

/\/\/\

The bell rings, signifying the end of a very long and horrible day, thanks to Cartman. Now, I have to go to the bus stop and get to Angel Morte-

"Kyle!" someone yells from behind me. I pause at my locker and see Kenny waving at me from the end of the hall.

"What's up?" I ask when he reaches me. I close the metal door.

He crosses his arms and pouts at me. "What did I do for you, Kyle?"

Oh. "Right! Thank you, Ken, I mean it!" I say happily, smiling at him. He smiles back.

"Yeah yeah, well I told you he'd forgive you," he says, pushing blonde strands of hair out of his face. I zip up my backpack and swing it over my shoulder. "Going somewhere?"

"Yeah, Ken, I have to go… home," I almost slipped up about work. Shit. "Lots of homework, ya know."

"Yeah, whatever," he says, waving goodbye, "I'm hanging with a bunch of the guys tonight, gonna go visit this girl I'm into. Wish me luck." He turns around and heads toward Butters and Clyde, huddled against the other lockers.

Once I'm at Angel Morte and in my uniform, it's work as usual. Cartman didn't show up until eight-ish, so I had four hours of normal customers for a change. As soon as he walks in, the other girls nudge me and Wendy comes over to help me with my makeup, "You said he knows about me too?"

"Yeah, but…" I start, closing my eyes as she draws on the eyeliner, "He won't tell anyone as long as I do what he says. Basically, more blackmail on me."

Wendy blinks, screwing the cap back on and admiring her handiwork. "There, you're done. Anyway, I'm surprised he isn't blackmailing me now."

I shrug, "You're not the Jew he's been torturing for years." She frowns at me and pats my back in a 'good luck' gesture. Slowly, I stand up and walk out of the backroom and over to his table.  
"Coffee?" I ask, holding up the tray I'd walked over with. He looks at me and smiles his evil grin.

"Why thank you, Kylie," he says, taking the pot and cup from my tray and pouring himself a cup. I automatically sit down across from him and place the tray on the table; by this time, I know the routine.

Cartman looks down at me with a sadistic grin, "You're learning how to be more polite, Kylie." His grin grows wider. He's enjoying this too much. I stick out my tongue at him.

"You two look cozy," a familiar voice says from next to the table. I look to my left and see none other than Kenny McCormick, smirking at the two of us. I try to stand up and end up stumbling out of the seat.

"Kenny?" I ask quickly, my voice much higher than normal. I look over at Cartman quickly, who looks just as surprised to see him as I am.

"What the hell are you doing here?" he asks Kenny. Kenny's smirk grows wider as Cartman's face looks angrier.

"I should ask _you_ the same question," Kenny asks, looking down at him. I get a strange feeling of déjà vu. He's clearly enjoying this. "I came to visit _Kylie_, with some friends…" he pauses and winks at me, "Care to join us, Cartman?"

I'm speechless. Friends? I glance over at the entrance and standing there, waiting to be seated, are Jimmy, Clyde, Craig, Tweek, Butters and Token.

Fuck. My. Life.

Cartman, too is looking at the large group of people we know. He looks back at me, almost hesitantly. I just stare at him. What am I supposed to do?

"…Sure," he says to Kenny, standing up. Kenny stops him before he exits the booth and looks at me in a supposedly 'sweet' way.  
"You don't mind if we all sit here, do you?"

I blink. "No…" my throat is dry. Kenny waves his friends over and I bow. "Excuse me… while I get menus." I sound so far away. My body and my mind are no longer attached.

I practically run to the back room, almost tripping over Mercedes, and fall onto the floor.

"Kyle?" Wendy asks. I quickly stand up and close the door behind me.

"You can't go out there!" I say hurriedly, pushing her backward.

"What do you mean 'I can't go out there'?" she asks, walking past me and opening the door a sliver. I watch her facial expression go from curiosity to surprise.

"Oh…" she says softly. The color seems to have drained from her face. "That's why."

/\/\/\

/\/\/\

Author's note:

Why did I update quickly? Because, if I didn't write this chapter, I was going to have more Kycart nightmares, like I do when I don't write them quickly enough. My friends know- the dreams usually have SP characters getting killed in a huge realistic massacre, ending with Cartman and Kyle. Then they kiss. I don't like those dreams.

Therefore, I had to write this if I wanted a good night's sleep.

So I read some other KyCart stories, and I'm so happy to see the pairing has come a long way since I started writing! KyCart stories are now dominating the most rated stories in the collection on here, it's really great, I'm glad to know I'm no longer one of the only people who think Kyle and Cartman are completely gay for each other. :D

When I wrote DSMB, can you believe there were only 1500 stories in the South Park archive? Now there are over 4000! There are no words to express how absolutely thrilled I am!

I've also discovered South Park is popular in Japan- who knew? There are videos on youtube of the opening and such, and it's pretty hilarious. Cartman and Kyle's voices make me smile so much.

I just thought I'd remind everyone just how big the SP fandom is becoming. Let's swear not to become like the other fandoms, okay? I noticed this a while ago but the SP fandom is actually a lot nicer and more tolerant of people than others I'm involved with, and even though it's getting bigger, I hope it remains this way.

Lots of love for everyone who's been reading and reviewing my stories diligently, I'm so grateful and blessed to have such nice people read my crap. :D

And… about this story, _big things_ go down in the next chapter! I'm excited. If you review I'll send you a snippet. (Subliminal message: review!)

God that was a long Author's note, I'm sorry, hopefully you didn't read the whole thing haha.

Much love, OR


	8. Reality

Author: OnigiriReject

Summary: Kyle is spotted working his job as a waitress by none other than Cartman. Will Cartman keep his secret? And what's with that smile of his?

Pairings: KyCart with undertones of Stendy.

~South Park and all characters belong to Matt Stone and Trey Parker, I'm just borrowing them for a little fun. ~

/\/\/\

Chapter Eight: Reality

/\/\/\

"What are we going to do?" Wendy asks, twirling her head to look at me. I sigh.

"I have no idea. They already saw me, so I can't get out of waiting on them…" I walk over to the large mirror and look at my reflection. With my hair down and makeup on, I really wasn't recognizable as Kyle Broflovski, Wendy on the other hand would be obvious in any way. "I'll get one of the other girls to help, you say you're feeling sick so you can go home."

Wendy walks up to me and tries to meet my eyes. She looks determined, "Kyle, I'm not letting you go out there to let your secret get exposed!"

"We don't have a choice, Wendy," I say sadly, "I can deal with them. Besides, if Cartman wanted everyone to find out my secret, he would have said it by now. He likes having something on me to use as blackmail. I don't think he'll tell them it's me…" at least, I hope not. I narrow my eyes.

She sighs, "Kyle… I'm sorry."

"It's not your fault."

"I'm sorry I can't help you… and thanks. If there's anything I can do for you in return for all this… just let me know," she leans over and pecks me on the cheek. I glance up at her- she's smiling, "You really are a great friend."

"It's no problem…" I say quietly. I should be safe as long as Cartman plays along as well. And, knowing him, he will as long as I'm polite. I turn around and head toward the door- it was time to test how much I'd learned from the other girls about being a good hostess.

/\/\/\

"Drinks?" I ask pleasantly (in my high pitched voice) as I walk back to Cartman's booth. Both my arms are loaded with trays carrying various sodas. Mercedes took the order for them, but Kenny requested me, so now I was stuck with them. Luckily, it was a pretty busy night, so they didn't really have a right to make me sit with them and entertain them like I usually did Cartman, but I did have to pay them slightly more attention because of the request. I stand in front of their table and meet the different boys' gazes, smiling.

"I got water," Butters says nervously, waving at me. "I-I'm Butters," he's beaming at me, a slight blush on his cheeks. I vaguely remember years ago when he, Stan, Cartman, Jimmy, Kenny and I went to Raisins, and he became infatuated with Lexis. Lucky for him she wasn't working today, otherwise he would have had very bad memories. I hoped he wouldn't try anything with me.

"Alright," I say, passing the drink over the other boys. Butters sat in a corner, to his right was Token, to his right was Clyde, and to his right was Cartman, who didn't look happy at all. Across from Cartman sat Kenny, to his right was Craig, Jimmy, and finally in the corner was Tweek, twitching away.

Clyde smirks triumphantly. "See, I told you guys this was great." I vaguely realize the irony in the fact I got this job because Clyde mentioned it that one fateful morning in class.

"You had Diet Coke, right sir?" I ask with a smile, trying to keep some hair in front of my face at all times, just in case the lipstick, blush and mascara weren't enough to disguise who I was. Clyde nods and I place the glass in front of him. I place the other glasses in front of their corresponding people, finally ending with Kenny. I glance at Cartman, who's staring down Kenny very angrily. He still had his cup of coffee, but it was almost empty.

"Mr. Eric," I begin, bowing slightly. He looks up at me like he just noticed I was there. "Would you like me to refill your cup?"

He does not look happy. "Yeah, whatever." Obviously he didn't like how his nightly visits to Angel Morte were being interrupted by a bunch of assholes he had to put up with at school.

I curtsy briefly and return to the kitchen door, where Thomas is preparing bread bowls. I sigh when I reach him.

"Bad day?" Thomas asks, looking up at me and cursing softly. He hands me a bread bowl.

I give him a look and take the bowl, "You don't know the half of it," I say darkly. I turn on my heel and grab menus from the table next to the backroom door, then head back toward the boys again. I reach them and hand each one of them their separate menus, except Cartman, whom I knew wouldn't want anything anyway, and end with placing the bowl in the middle of the table.

"I'll be right back with your coffee, Eric," I say. He glances up at me with a questioning look in his eyes. Word slip, my bad. I bow my head slightly in an apology and quickly head back to the kitchen to fetch another pot of coffee. When I return, I catch the end of their conversation.

"Oh _Eric_," Kenny says, smirking. "I didn't know you could be such a gentleman."

"Shut your poor ass mouth," he says, not even looking up. I begin to refill his cup- the boys seemed to just notice my return. Although, Token and Tweek are engrossed in a conversation about which waitress has the larger chest- I zone them out.

"Dude, that blonde waitress is hot," Craig says.

"Jesus Christ, I-I think I've died and g-gone to h-heaven," Jimmy says, looking around at all the other waitresses. I'm glad Wendy left through the back- there was no way these boys could _not_ have seen her. Mercedes, Porsche, Ferrari and Acura were working tonight, but I had the only large table, so they got to flit between the different tables, letting my table of boys check out their every move.

But, Kenny of all people, seemed more interested in me. "Kylie…" he purred, putting his head in his hands. "Why aren't you wearing the other uniform?" he smiles. "I'm sure you would look good in it…"

I laugh nervously. "I prefer this uniform, sir, it's easier to maneuver in." I attempt to give him my most flirtatious smile, but I hear Cartman laugh behind me, so I know it failed miserably. I'm half tempted to pour the rest of the coffee pot on his head. I put it down on the table to avoid acting out my fantasy.

Kenny half smiles at me and brushes some of his blonde hair behind his ears, "You should wear it some time…" he puts his hand on my skirt and feels the material, looking down at it. "If I come back…" he meets my eyes again, "could I request you to wear it?"

I'm stunned at how much effort Kenny is putting in to flirt with me. Granted, he's always been obsessed with girls. He lost his virginity in sixth grade to a twelfth grader, and ever since then he's been constantly going after anything with a pussy to fuck. I just had never been on the receiving end of his tactics. I thought I knew what to expect, but… it was a very different situation, I have to admit.

Kenny pulls at my skirt playfully and I backward step away from him, standing next to Cartman, who's glaring at Kenny menacingly. "Watch it, Kenny," he says, sounding as annoyed as he looked. "They can get you thrown out."

He shrugs, "Not if she's enjoying it." He flicks his hair back and gazes at Cartman, a bored look in his blue eyes. "Maybe they've tried to throw _you_ out before because you're so ugly, it's considered sexual harassment if you so much as speak to them." Craig laughs loudly, enjoying any insult toward Cartman. Cartman turns slightly red but says nothing- I feel slightly bad for him.

"Anyway," Kenny stands up quickly and puts his hand around my waist. I jump slightly as he pulls me into him. He lowers his lids and looks me straight in the eyes- curse the fact he was two inches taller than me. "Aren't you glad I came to see you?" he said in what was supposed to be a seductive tone. He tucks a stray lock of red hair behind my ear.

I stutter, not exactly sure what to do. "Sir, please get off of me-

"Get off on you? Okay," Kenny smiles, the others guffaw at his stupid joke.

"Come on, Kenny, you know she wants you," Clyde says, egging him on. Idiot- he never was too bright, although for some reason, ever since that stupid 'List' was made back in fourth grade, the other girls in our grade had been all over him.

Kenny's hand slides up my waist, getting too close to my pretend chest- I need to call the bouncers, and throw him out. I wasn't going to originally because he's my friend, but I can't risk this-

"Kenny," Cartman begins in a dangerous tone, "you're touching something that belongs to _me_." Kenny and I both turn and look at him; he was now standing up behind me. The other boys grow silent, looking between the three of us. Craig nudges Jimmy in the ribs excitedly.

Kenny narrows his eyes and glances at Cartman, his hand still around my waist. "Puh-lease, Cartman. What do you mean? She's a _waitress_. She serves _everyone_. Just cuz you request her constantly doesn't make her 'yours'." He pulls me closer to him, his hand secured my hip- since I know Kenny, it's not too weird, but if I was any other 'girl', I'd probably feel extremely embarrassed. He smiles and adds, "like any girl would speak to you if you didn't pay them."

Cartman cheeks are tinged slightly red as he glowers at Kenny. He is mad. "She belongs to _me_."

Kenny and Craig laugh. Butters looks nervously between them, I'm sure he knows what Cartman's angry voice means. The ice forms in my chest again- I am scared, and his anger isn't even directed at me. "Awww, so sweet," Kenny says in a mocking tone, "Cartman has a _wittle_ crush on our waitress."

I can almost hear the blood vessels popping in Cartman's head. He looks anything except happy- I could feel the air grow heavy around me. He snaps back loudly, "She's my_ girlfriend, _you_ asshole._"

My mouth falls open but I quickly close it so no one would notice. The rest of the boys' eyes are as wide as saucers, but Kenny looks like he was slapped, "Your _girlfriend_?" He laughs and let's go of me, "Hah- like anyone would wanna date a fatass like you-

"It's true, so get your dirty, poor hands off of her." Cartman's eyes couldn't get smaller if he tried.

My eyes widen in surprise. Is he… helping me? He looks at me and jerks his head, obviously trying to get me to back him up.

"It's true!" I say quickly, my voice much higher than I intended. I look between Kenny and Cartman, take a step into the brunette and whisper quickly, "Cartman, why are you-

"Because if everyone finds out you're a guy, I won't be able to blackmail you anymore, and I'll be damned if anyone thinks I have a crush on the likes of you," he says quietly out of the corner of his mouth as he stares back at Kenny.

Oh. Right. That makes sense. And if everyone found out about it… I'd lose my job, so for now…

I have to go along with it.

_Shit._

Kenny looks more annoyed than anything, like Cartman ruined his little game. The other boys look between each other in confusion.

"Cartman can't have a girlfriend…" Token begins. It's terrible that I understand why it's so hard to believe.

"Well, I do, so shut your god damn black mouth, asshole," Cartman snaps at him. His face was much more red than usual. I feel extremely awkward- pretending I'm going out with Cartman? Somebody kill me. Please make them believe us.

Kenny notices how odd we're acting and smiles. He crosses his arms, "Alright, if it is true… then why don't you kiss her?"

Our mouths both fall open at the same time.

"Excuse me?" I say while Cartman splutters next to me. I feel my temperature rise at least a thousand degrees. No. _No_. Anything but that.

Kenny just laughs- I see the boys cracking smiles behind him. "Well, if you really _are_ boyfriend and girlfriend, obviously a little peck would be no big deal… Unless you aren't actually-

"We're going out, chill the fuck out you asshole!" Cartman yells at Kenny, I feel my heart beat speed up.

"Then kiss her," Kenny says in a singsong voice. He's playing with Cartman. He knows it's getting to him. He doesn't think he'll do it… neither do I, but if he doesn't, they won't think we're going out. And Kenny will start hitting on me again- what if he finds out who I actually am? I would never hear the end of it from any of these guys!

But… _kiss_ Cartman? Kiss _Cartman_?

I look up at Cartman awkwardly. We meet eyes for a brief moment and he casts his gaze down a second later, looking like he's thinking hard.

"Ca-" I begin, then I correct myself, "_Eric_." That got his attention, his eyes widen and he looks at me. We are uncomfortably close. I say in a very quiet voice so only he'll hear, "I _need_ this job."

The gears seem to be turning slowly in his head. I plead silently with my eyes.

"_Please_," I add with as much feeling as I can muster. Please understand, please comply, please just do it and get it over with. He answers by simply taking a step toward me and delicately placing his hand on the small of my back. Kenny narrows his eyes as he watches us.

Craig nudges Token, "He's bluffing." Cartman ignores him.

"And I mean _really_ kiss her," Kenny says, continuing to smile, "Not a kiss you would give your mom… well actually, I don't know how you kiss your mom, but-

"_Just shut the fuck up Kenny_," he shoots Kenny a scathing look, and with that, all conversation ends. Kenny knew the line was crossed when Mrs. Cartman was mentioned- he had too much fun pushing Cartman's buttons though. I feel his hand trembling against my back. My skin tingles from his touch.

God must hate me to put me in a situation such as this. Cartman awkwardly glances into my eyes, and then settles on staring at a spot on the floor while his cheeks turn red.

"Fucking poor ass…" he mutters.

I furrow my brow and think of the possibilities. There was next to no way of getting out of this. Cartman put his hand under my chin, pushing my head toward his, but continued to stare at the floor.

Between Cartman's pride in never backing down from a challenge, and my desperate need to keep this job, we have no other choice.

"One word of this…" he whispers menacingly. I could feel his breath on my face, "to _anyone_… and I will not hesitate to tell everyone your secret, _and_ cut off your balls."

"Oh _right_," I whisper back in the most biting tone possible, "Like I'd want to tell everyone that Eric Cartm-

My last word was lost in my throat as Cartman, in one swift movement, pulled me into him and pressed his lips firmly against mine. My eyes widen- I briefly forget everything going on. White engulfs my consciousness as I shut my eyes tightly.

I hear cheering as Cartman captures my lips again with his. I'm closing my eyes as tight as they will go- I didn't want to open them and see Cartman that close to me. Butterflies are forming in my chest, chasing away any ice that had formed in it before. I'm getting dizzy from lack of air. My brain is getting fuzzy.

I only kissed two people before in my life, both times when I was eight, and both times I would rather forget. Neither was a very pleasant experience. This feels… so different. Not only is it another boy, but it was Cartman- God how things change. I vaguely wonder how much time had passed- how much time needed to pass for it to count as a _real_ kiss?

He pulls me further into him, my chest in his; my hands dangling- unsure of what to do with them. My heart thuds against my rib cage, threatening to escape. I try to count the seconds in my head but it's useless, coherent thoughts weren't an option.

His lips are around mine and I try to push out every thought that this was Cartman. I had to do this. For my job. For my future. My emotions are telling me to push him away, but my rational mind knows I have to do this.

I feel my heart pumping blood through every vein. His lips felt rough against my unmoving ones. I'm only vaguely aware of my surroundings. I hear applause from the restaurant and happy squeals from the waitresses- I can't distinguish much else going on. Warmth radiated from everywhere our skin touched.

All my senses, my very being in that moment, had been engulfed by Cartman.

He breathes against my mouth and moves one of his hands back behind my head, tangling it in my hair and gripping it. I gasp from the sudden pain and before I realize what I'm doing, my mouth opens, and I move my body further into his. I slide my hands up his chest and around his shoulders, until they link behind his neck and pull him into me.

Every part if my body heats up as we're pulling and grasping at each other, almost desperately. My nose is against his cheek and my lips are mouthing his, attempting to get me closer and closer. I can feel his heart beating against mine.

Suddenly it's gone. We both broke off at the same time, panting and opening our eyes. Reality hit me like a freezing cold ocean wave- jolting me back to my senses. I hold Cartman's head in my hands and desperately search his eyes. They seem to reflect my own confusion and fear back at me, tenfold.

The applause and cheering fade in and out of our world as the room spins around us. I catch glimpses of faces. Mercedes beaming. Clyde and Jimmy whooping. Butters looking embarrassed. And Kenny smirking to himself.

I am completely against Cartman's body, my chest in his, my hands on him, one of his hands in my hair and the other pushing my pelvis into his. I let go of his face, letting one of my hands trail along his chin before letting it fall. He, too, releases his grip, but keeps eye contact. His brown eyes are focused completely on my green ones.

Cartman looks completely dislodged from his surroundings. Ignoring all the guys cheering him on and acting like his friends- he was still looking at me. His arms hung limply at his sides as his eyes searched my face with questions I had no answer for.

Kenny pats Cartman on the back, grimacing slightly, and he jumps, seeming to come back down to earth. Kenny says disdainfully, "Who knew you had it in you, dude?"

With that, I bolt, leaving the congratulations and the people and the confusion behind. I need my mind, I need my sanity. I need to be alone to think.

The door swings closed behind me and the collective noise vanishes. I trip over nothing and fall, face first onto the floor. I lie there for a moment, enjoying the feel of the cool tiles against my overly warm face, then crawl over to a corner of the room and curl into a ball against the lockers.

My face is in pain from colliding with the floor... but I can barely feel it.

What… what was that? I feel my forehead- I'm scorching hot and sweating. What…

No words. Nothing makes sense. I can't go back out there. I feel tears gather in my eyes. Someone opens the backroom door. Why am I about to cry? What's wrong with me?

"Kylie, oh I'm so happy for you!" Mercedes' voice says. "Wait, are you okay?"

"I…" words plus words make sentences which convey messages. "Need… to go home."

"Are you crying?"

Tears roll down my cheeks, "I just… need to get out of here." I walk to my locker and pull out my backpack. There's a blonde blur to my left.

"I'll tell Mr. Yamamoto you're sick…" she says, sounding confused. I can relate. I mumble my thanks and run out the back exit, swinging my bag over my shoulder.

/\/\/\

"Bubbala, you're home late! Did you finish your homework? Don't forget you only have seven weeks until the SATs again, have you been studying? Remember, Ike had a perfect score, there's no reason you can't do the same! Try your hardest then try some more, then you'll be rewarded. Don't slam the door, Kyle! Kyle? Bubbala? Do you want me to check your homework? Remember, lights out by nine thirty, bubbe..."

/\/\/\

Sleep didn't come to me that night. My head was too full of things that didn't make sense. It was the next morning, at school, when I was finally able to put my head down on my desk and sleep.

I told my mom I wasn't feeling well before school, and of course, being my mom, she gave me some medicine and told me that I shouldn't waste my days at such an important time in my life. She gave me nighttime cold medicine, which always caused me to fall asleep easily when I had a cold. As soon as I sat down at my desk and the other kids began to pile into the classroom, I was out like a light.

Stan, being the best friend that he was, woke me up a few minutes later, before class started. "Dude, are you alright? You look terrible…"

"Yeah… I'm fine… just tired," I rub my eyes. The cold medicine also made it hard for me to concentrate. Everyone is sitting down in their seats and I notice one member of our class is missing. "Dude, where's Cartman?"

Stan shrugs, "Not here I guess. Be thrilled…" he looks like he just remembered something he was going to tell me. "Oh! Have you heard Kenny's crazy story?"

I shake my head and yawn, trying to get my brain working at normal speed again.

"Well, Kenny says that he and a bunch of his friends went to that weird angel café place that Clyde was talking about a while ago, and apparently Cartman and their waitress made out."

I stand up suddenly. I'm going to throw up.

It wasn't a horrible nightmare.

I'm dashing out of the room, away from Stan, when I meet a familiar warm set of eyes belonging to the girl just walking into the room.

"Wendy…" I say in relief. She takes one look at me and gasps.

"Kyle! You look awful- what happened after I left yesterday?"

"Kyle, wait!" Stan says, catching up to me. The three of us stand in the doorway looking at each other for a moment, before Wendy faces her boyfriend.

"I need to talk to Kyle, Stan, sorry… we'll explain later, okay? For now, we need to go chat for a bit." She shoots him her most dazzling smile and I can practically hear his insides melting. I put my hand on the wall to steady myself- I'm still pretty dizzy from the meds.

Stan sighs and looks at me, "You better explain what's going on later, dude. I hate being in the dark."

/\/\/\

"YOU _WHAT_?" Wendy shrieks at me. My head throbs in pain. We're outside of the school. The bell has already rung, but considering Wendy and I are Mr. Garrison's best students, we're not going to get in trouble. Much to my dismay, she continues her yelling, "How could you… _Cartman_?"

"If I didn't, Kenny would have found out I'm not a girl!" I yell back, holding my head. I don't want to argue. She doesn't look convinced. "It's not like I _wanted_ to, Wendy!"

She sighs and puts her hand on my shoulder, "I'm sorry, Kyle but… that thought, of Cartman with anyone… is pretty revolting." She smiles sadly, "Forgive me… what are you going to do from now on? You're not quitting, right?"

I shake my head, "No, of course not…" I want to go to sleep. "I'm just… going to avoid Cartman, as much as humanly possible…"

"He's still going to Angel Morte, right?"

"Yeah."

"Then how is that going to work?"  
I think about it for a moment. Thinking hurts. "I just won't… ever bring it up again. And hopefully he won't."

"Kyle, that's not going to work," her black hair swishes back and forth as she shakes her head. "You need to work out things that happen, ignoring it could make it worse-

"Make _what_ worse, Wendy?" I say bitterly. "The fact that I had to… _kiss_ the person I detest more than any other human being on this planet, or that it was in front of everyone I work with and my friends from school, and I can't let anyone find out I'm a boy otherwise I'll lose my job and be the laughing stock of the entire school?"

She flinches at the tone of my voice. "I'm sure there's something that can be done-

"Just drop it, Wendy, please," I say quickly. I just… don't want to worry about it anymore. "If things are bad between Cartman and I, how is that any worse than how things already were?"

Wendy thinks for a moment, and adds quietly. "If anything, this is a blessing in disguise." I wait for her to continue. "Well, look at it this way. Now Cartman will have to keep your secret, otherwise everyone would find out he kissed you."

…wha…

…Oh my god.

"Wendy…" I begin, smiling widely. "You are a complete genius."

She beams at me. "Sorry but I think Mr. Garrison will want us back soon. I'll see you at Angel Morte tomorrow night, okay? I'm off tonight."

Now Cartman can't make me do absolutely everything he wants. Well, if he comes back to Angel Morte (and only if), technically he's the customer, so I have to do some things he wants… but now I have more of a choice. I'm absolutely thrilled he doesn't have complete power over me anymore. I don't have to give him my notes, hand feed him…

I follow her back into the school, through the classroom door and back to our respective seats. Cartman wasn't in the room. Stan looks at me worriedly, but I smile and give him the thumbs up. Not everything is terrible anymore. I am still completely drained from my lack of sleep and the cold medicine though.

I hoped that I wouldn't _have_ to see Cartman for at least another day.

/\/\/\

The entire day at school, people were talking about Cartman's escapades with a waitress from Angel Morte. Luckily, my secret seemed to be safe, but it didn't help the fact that every time I heard people mention it, I felt sick and had to excuse myself. Thank god for the cold medicine- it kept me pretty out of it the entire day, so I could tune a lot of it out.

Even if now I don't have to do absolutely everything Cartman says, that doesn't mean I want to see him. Or be around him. Or speak to him. I especially don't want to see him at Angel Morte. I don't want to have to wait on him.

He is a customer after all, so I still have to do what he says (for the most part). There would only be two real big differences from before the… 'incident'.

Number one, the fact it would just be extremely awkward. I mean, we… did something I'd rather never admit again. I'd like to just wipe the whole incident clean from my memory and move on, but sadly I am human and if I see him, I will remember.

Number two, if he _did_ come back to Angel Morte, which I hoped he wouldn't, the other customers and girls would think of him as my boyfriend. Or as the boy I was interested in. Either way, it was _wrong_ and a complete misunderstanding… and I would rather not deal with their congratulations and squeals of enthusiasm for me.

It's easy to imagine why I didn't want to see Cartman for a while. At least until I got all my thoughts in order. So, when Cartman showed up that night at Angel Morte, it's understandable why I wasn't happy.

"I don't want to wait on him."

Lexis is arguing with me, "But Kylie, you guys finally admitted your feelings for each other! Mercedes told me all about what happened last night, you should be happy-

"I don't want to wait on him."

She pouts. "Well, he requested you, so you don't really have a choice."

With that, Lexis pushes me out of the backroom and closes the door behind me. In my desperation to avoid Cartman, I turn around and try to open the door again, but Lexis was holding the door on the other side, keeping me from entering. I know she thinks she's doing me a favor, but fuck am I going to yell at her later.

I turn around and look around the restaurant. My eyes fall upon the familiar brown-haired boy and I feel my heart begin to beat faster.

Stupid cold medicine is still wearing off, so I'm still dizzy and tired… not my day. I sigh and walk toward the kitchen, grabbing the coffee pot and cups to put on my tray. I trek the familiar path through the tables over to Cartman's booth.

I reach the table and there's only an awkward silence awaiting me. I look down at him, holding the coffee pot and cup at the ready, just waiting for him to give the word for me to begin pouring it for him. Sadly, today was a slow day, so not only was there no excuse for me not to treat him properly, but all the other waitresses were watching us from the kitchen and backroom area, whispering to each other excitedly. The other girls (the ones who _were_ working) kept glancing back at us when they thought I wasn't looking.

While as Cartman, who I prayed wouldn't come, sat like a stone statue in the chair, not even nodding when I walked up to the table. He was covering his face with one of his hands so I couldn't see his eyes.

I felt dizzy just looking at him. Thinking about yesterday is still hard… and the cold medicine's effects were still wearing off, so the ability to think clearly was nonexistent. Otherwise I wouldn't have been able to get through the day, listening to Clyde, Craig and Token's retelling of the events that unfolded between Cartman and 'Kylie'.

I stare down at him and sigh, finally putting the cup down, pouring the coffee into it, setting the pot down, and sitting across from him. I feel uncomfortable. My face is bright red.

He doesn't even look at me. His jacket was unbuttoned on the top. I shift in my seat and attempt to will my heart to beat slower.

"I have your coat…" I begin finally, breaking the silence. I sounded much louder than I actually was because of the lack of commotion in the restaurant. "It's in my locker." Cartman finally removes his hand from his face and looks at me- his face red and his brown eyes looking lost.

"It…" he begins softly. His fair features look confused. He clears his throat and furrows his brow, "It never happened."

I blink. He continues.

"It… just didn't happen. Alright, Jew?"

Instead of confronting it, we ignore it and move on. Wendy was wrong. I like that idea and nod. "No it didn't."

"No matter what people say…"

"It never happened."

"Right."

"We'll never mention it again."

"Never."  
"So we're clear… don't ever bring it up. Again."

"Crystal."  
"Right."

"Good," Cartman leans back in his seat, looking slightly relieved. I almost smile out of relief. I'm still embarrassed, yeah, but… I would rather just ignore everything that happened yesterday. For my sanity, we have to.

"I didn't think you were going to come today," I admit sheepishly. He looks back at me. "I mean, you weren't at school."

He sighs. "…Jew," he begins, dropping his voice so only I can hear. The derogatory name doesn't even faze me anymore. "You do realize that, even though _you_ are in disguise here, I am not. Kenny and the others all know it was me yesterday…" his cheeks turn red again but he keeps eye contact with me, "And if you heard everyone today, you can imagine what it would be like for me? I don't care what people say about me… but it would get really annoying really fast."

I blink. He had a point. Can't exactly blame him for wanting to avoid it for a bit. He pushes some of his brown hair back and glances behind me, toward the backroom. He grimaces. "Those sluts seem pretty happy for you."

I feel my cheeks heat up thinking about it and look down at my skirt. I fiddle with the hem, "So… you and I can act like it didn't happen…" I bite my lip. "But everyone else won't."

Cartman sighs loudly, "Yeah. We don't really have a choice though, do we, Kahl?"

I look up- he used my name. He meets my eyes for a moment and looks away. "…I'll be leaving soon. I have some shit to do at home… I just wanted to make that clear. That it didn't happen."

"Right," I say quickly, feeling my cheeks heat up. I get out of the booth and bow to him, remembering he's a customer. My head is spinning from standing up too quickly. I lower my voice, "Later, Cartman." I turn around and head back toward the backroom, meeting the eyes of the other waitresses (who were obviously watching us) and frowning at them.

The dizziness catches up to me, and suddenly, I misstep and I'm falling toward the floor again.

"Kahl!"

I stop falling. There's an arm secured around my middle and someone's chest presses against my back. I turn my head and my eyes are met with Cartman's. His breath is on my neck.

I'm speechless. "Ca-cartman?" I ask. He looks just as surprised as I am that he caught me. We're too close. All the things we told each other we'd forget are flooding through my mind again. I'm suddenly very aware of just how physically close Cartman and I are, and I squirm to get out of his arms. My face is bright red and my heart is racing.

He suddenly lets go of me once he realizes what he was doing, and I quickly get up close and personal with the hard floor. I curse and push myself up quickly, running toward the backroom, pushing past all the girls, and looking for somewhere I can hide.

/\/\/\/\/\/\

Author's Note:

Days of sleep deprivation and it's up! Woo! This is the longest chapter I've ever written, I think it exceeds 6000 words. Another mountain climbed!

I love how I got some reviews with people saying "OMG can you finish this? I know you prob don't use this account anymore, but PLEASE!" They made me laugh. Don't worry- it's understandable when lots of people don't finish their stories to think that I wrote this a long time ago and I'm not finishing it…

I'm not going to give up on this story. I love it because it's adorable.

Thanks for all the reviews and positive feedback from the last chapter, I really appreciate!

Now to go sleep.

Much Love, OR


	9. Spiraling Denial

Author: OnigiriReject

Summary: Kyle is spotted working his job as a waitress by none other than Cartman. Will Cartman keep his secret? And what's with that smile of his?

Pairings: KyCart with undertones of Stendy.

~South Park and all characters belong to Matt Stone and Trey Parker, I'm just borrowing them for a little fun. ~

Chapter Nine: Spiraling Denial

It's four am. I lie in bed staring at my dark blue ceiling, weighing my options, while the light from the sun breaks the dark sky outside. I haven't been able to sleep all night.

It _was_ Wednesday night, now Thursday morning. It has been over a day since I saw Cartman last. He didn't show up to school today…yesterday, and he wasn't at Angel Morte during my shift. I lucked out. It was nice not to put up with his harassment for at least a day…

Sadly, though, it's not as if I completely escaped him. Or was free of the memory of Monday. Because, at school it seemed all people were talking about was the fact Cartman made out with a girl. Not just a girl- but his _girlfriend_.

I feel my face burn in embarrassment and I bury my head in a pillow, loudly yelling all my frustration at the matter into it. Fuck. Fucking fuck.

I don't blame him for avoiding school for at least another month. I would myself, if it didn't look suspicious. (And if my mom would let me, which she wouldn't.) After all, nobody knows who the 'girl' is Cartman is supposedly going out with. All people know is that she works at Angel Morte and has red hair…

I sigh and remove the pillow from my face. Only two people know my secret. That I am a boy dressing in drag to work there. Those two people are Wendy, and unfortunately…Cartman.

At least he can't expose me anymore, so there's no reason for me to listen to his demands outside of the restaurant…

Everything is such a mess.

/\/\/\

After another night of lost sleep, I get up earlier than usual and try to leave for school, so maybe I can go lie down in the nurse's office or something. I put my hand on the front door's handle and my mom's voice floats in from the kitchen. I was trying to be quiet to avoid the usual morning questions, but…

"Bubbe, did you go over the SAT words in that book I circled for you?" she must have heard me come down the stairs.

"Erm-" I forgot. Fuck. With all the shit going on right now I must've overlooked it…"Yeah, I did, Mom."

I try to open the front door. "Did you do the math problems as well?" she asks.

I sigh. "Yes." Lies.

"All of them?"

"Yes."

"Then, how…" she walks into the hallway holding the practice math book. "Was this book in my possession the entire night, if you supposedly did it?"

...shit.

"I'm sorry, Mom," I begin, searching her face for some form of forgiveness. I feel terrible I was caught in my own lie. "I've been having a tough time lately-

"Well, Kyle," her face is twisted in anger. "Maybe if you did what I asked you to, your life wouldn't be so hard." She drops the book on the floor and points at the door, her eyebrows furrowed and teeth bared. "Do you realize how much I do for you, Kyle? And you lie to me like this?"

My stomach plummets, I really didn't need this… she continues, "Just go to school. We'll discuss this when you get back. You're going to the library after school today, right?"

"Yes Mom…" I say. I want to leave. She doesn't even bother to ask me how I'm doing, just 'did you do your work?' Fucking bitch doesn't care…

She sighs, "I don't know what you'd do without me. Go to school." She turns on her heel and leaves me standing alone in the hall again.

I frown and feel my blood boiling. If I didn't have _her_, I'd be a lot happier.

"Dude, everyone is still talking about that stupid Cartman thing," Stan says as he walks up to my locker.

"I know," I say, getting annoyed. My head is buried in my locker- I've been trying to block out the rest of the world so I could rest my mind for a moment. School hadn't even started yet and I heard Bebe talking with Red about it across the hall. "Why is it such a big deal?" I ask, to myself mostly.

"Because it's Cartman," Stan answers plainly, leaning against the lockers next to mine. "I mean- has he ever had a girlfriend? The farthest he's ever gone with anyone was with Butters when we were nine-

"You mean when he put Butters' dick in his mouth?" I remove my head from the locker and face Stan. He cracks a smile.  
"Yeah," he laughs. I can't help but smile in return. Then I frown, realizing that I had that same mouth on mine. The mouth that had Butters'…

"God, Stan, I'm going to be sick…" I say, sticking my head back in my locker just in case I actually throw up. Stan just cocks his head at me.

"Are you going to tell me what's really been up lately?"

I sigh and pull out my copy of Crime and Punishment from the locker. "Well…" I bite my lip and look at Stan. "My mom… just doesn't let me do anything."  
Stan nods, "I knew about that last year…" he pauses, then looks worried. "Has it gotten worse?"

I lower my gaze and frown. "You know how we basically didn't talk last year? I know we apologized but…"

"It was your mom?"

I look up at him and nod. He suddenly looks very angry.

"Dude, you shouldn't have to put up with that-

"It's not that big a deal, Stan… I just never get to do what I want unless I lie and say I'm studying. She doesn't even know about my job…" I add almost as an afterthought.

"You have a job?" Stan asks, his eyes widening. Oops.

"Yeah…" I start, biting my lip, "I work with Wendy."

Stan literally looks like a light bulb lit up in his head. "Oh! That's why you guys have been closer lately!" He smiles very widely, looking almost relieved. "I was wondering what was up!"

I nod, smiling at Stan's obliviousness. Never ceases to amaze me how much he really trusted Wendy and I. I love how he doesn't even ask where we're working.

"Anyway, let's get to class," I say, closing my locker and beginning to walk toward the classroom. Stan catches up and walks alongside me.

"…Stan," I say quietly, frowning. There really was something still bothering me. "Have you ever kissed someone you didn't want to?"

Stan stops walking and just stares at me, his mouth agape. "Did you kiss someone, Kyle?"

"No-no!" I stutter back at him, turning around. My face is red. "I'm just asking, dude!" I really hope I'm a more convincing liar than I sound right now.

Stan eyes me, but gives up. "Well… I kissed Red once a few years back because Wendy and I were in a fight. I told Wendy afterward, don't worry," he adds when he sees the look of shock on my face. Stan kissed someone other than Wendy? What universe was this? "I was just really upset and on the rebound and shit… anyway, I didn't actually want to kiss her, so I get what you mean. It just, feels wrong, right?"

I think about it. Was it because it felt wrong that I was losing sleep? I know it's wrong. Completely. On every level. But did it feel wrong?

I'm lost in thought for another moment, then catch my train of thought.

Of _course_ it felt wrong, what am I thinking? It's Cartman- it's horrible! Disgusting, revolting, obviously it felt wrong! I scrunch my face angrily. Of course it felt wrong. Why am I having second thought?

But… "More like…" I bite my lip. "I don't know how to act around them now."

Stan smiles knowledgably. "Just ignore it and move on. Red and I still talk occasionally, and it's awkward, but we ignore it, ya know? Makes it easier."  
I sigh. I knew ignoring it was the best option. But how do I ignore it if everyone was talking about it? I can't ask Stan that- he might keep asking questions. No way in hell I'm telling him Kyle Broflovski kissed Eric Cartman. Snowballs' chance in hell that I tell anyone after Wendy's reaction…

We walk into the classroom and over to our seats, avoiding the various students gathering around their desks.

"Well, if you did kiss someone, at least it wasn't your first kiss," he says quietly as we sit down. I glance over at him quizzically, and he laughs. "I remember when Bebe kissed you a few years ago when we were playing Truth or Dare. You got so freaked out you ran out of the clubhouse."

I frown at him. "I personally don't count anything that wasn't my choice as a 'first kiss'. And don't remind me. Bebe was a slut then, and is now. I remember how she wrote that note about my ass, which you had to read aloud to the entire class… or have you forgotten?"

He thinks for a moment. "Oh yeah," he looks around awkwardly, "Yeah, let's just never talk about that again."

"Agreed," I bend over and zip open my bag. Wait, didn't I kiss Bebe because I didn't want Cartman to beat me? I pause and keep thinking.

So, essentially, every kiss I've had to date has been because of that asshole-

"Hey fags, what's going on?" that certain asshole says, walking up to us at that exact moment. I narrow my eyes and look away. Not in the mood to deal with him.

"Hey dude, where have you been?" Stan asks as soon as he sees Cartman.

"Not here," he answers plainly. Smart ass. He looks down at me, then suddenly looks away. I frown. Obviously he's less than happy to see me. I really didn't want to see him either, to be honest.

"Cartman!" Clyde says loudly from across the room. He walks over to us and hits Cartman on the back, smiling. "Dude, where did you go after you made out with that girl?" he asks. "You bailed and left us with the tab."

I look up at Cartman. He left the same time I did? He looks at Clyde with a steely expression on his face. "I had shit to do. So what?"

Clyde grins again. "Did you go off somewhere with that chick to finish what you started?"

I cough loudly (trying to push down the vomit I could feel coming up in the back of my throat) and the three others look at me, Stan especially frowning. "Dude, you okay?"

"Yeah, just, didn't sleep much," I reply quietly, looking everywhere except at Cartman. 'Finish what we started?' Hardly. It was just a stupid kiss. My lips brushing quickly against his. Nothing emotional, nothing saying I _wanted_ more. I fucking had to do it. Where does Clyde come off acting like he knows-

"Well, whatever, you owe us four dollars," Clyde frowns at Cartman and walks off. Cartman stares after him. He sighs and looks back at Stan and I as Kenny walks over to us.

"Hey guys," he says, tucking some blonde hair behind his ear. I can't help but glare at him- it was his fault my last few days had been hell. Even if he didn't know 'Kylie' and 'Kyle' were the same person, I could still be mad at him. He looks down at me, "What's wrong Kyle?"

My frown deepens. "Nothing," I look down at my desk, "I just had a rough night."

"I bet- you look like hell. How much sleep did you get?" Stan asks.

"None," I answer, attempting to smile at him. I don't even know how I'm awake right now.

"Why can't you sleep?" Kenny asks, flipping the chair to my right around and sitting in it backwards. He's grinning to himself slightly.

"Reoccurring nightmares," I answer plainly, not looking up at Cartman. He sets his bag down in the chair behind me.

"Did you guys do the math homework?" Cartman asks, changing the topic of conversation completely.

"You're not copying off of me, asshole," I answer automatically.

"Fuck you, Kahl! Sorry not all of us have the time needed to do the fucking work!" He snaps back. I turn around and glare at him.

"You know damn well of my time constraints, Cartman- and you've been skipping class. Maybe if you put more effort into your studies-

"Oh and what time constraints are those, Kahl?" he asks in his sickly sweet voice. Shit, I can't say what my job is when Stan and Kenny are around…

"You know about my job, asshole. Not only that, but you can't tell anyone unless you want the whole school to laugh at you." I remember what Wendy said the day before. He can't tell anyone where I work unless he wants to admit to kissing a Jew, which I know is the one thing he never would. I smile at him as he stops dead in his tracks.

"And they're off," Kenny says from my now-left. Stan is pinching the bridge of his nose- neither one is listening now, they've grown too tired from our constant arguing that now they just block us out.

I turn my back to Cartman and pull my notebook out of my bag, still smiling to myself. I've won this round. Time to kick him while he's done. "And, not only that Cartman, but even with my job, I make time to do my work. You could learn from that-

"Sorry not all of us have that fucking bitch-mom of your to breathe down our necks while we study!" he retorts loudly. My mouth falls open and I stand up quickly, sticking my face in his. Other students are watching us now.  
"Don't you dare bring my mom into this, Cartman!" I can't believe he'd mention my mom- he knows the reason I have my job in the first place is to not have to depend on her! "You haven't matured at all since we were younger, not one bit! You still have to bring up things that are not your business at all-

He smiles. He knows he got to me. "Get that sand out of your vagina, Kahl, and get over yourself."

"I DON'T HAVE SAND IN MY VAGINA, FAT-ASS!" I was mad now. He had no right to bring my mom into the argument, and then to fucking say that.  
"I'M NOT FAT!" He retorts childishly, his smile gone.

"You might not be as _fat_ as you were, but you're still a bigoted intolerant _asshole_ that no girl would _ever_ be interested in!"

"You're one to talk about being interested in girls, fag! Besides, if I was completely unattractive, I wouldn't have a girlfriend, whom I made out with in front of everyone, would I?"  
I stop cold. I can't believe he just said that. That was a low blow. A complete low blow. I whisper in disbelief, "You said we wouldn't…" I trail off. Why did I trust him about that? He said we wouldn't bring it up!

I have nothing to reply to that with, so I just growl angrily and sit back down in my chair, my back to him. He won.

"I'm still not letting you copy my homework," I say quietly through gritted teeth.

"Fuck you, Jew," he says, sounding as tired as I felt. We were both just tired. Of arguing, of butting heads… of secrets.

/\/\/\

The rest of the day is just as fun as I imagined it would be. In between periods, I knew people would be coming up to Cartman and asking him about the rumors. Considering he sat behind me, I got to hear every single question and answer until lunch began. Ironically Kenny was the only one who didn't ask him about it, considering he was the one who instigated the 'incident' in the first place.

I'm so grateful Cartman can't tell anyone that it's me working at Angel Morte- now I can understand why he avoided school for two days, people aren't leaving him alone.

"Eric…" it was Butters this time. I kept my head down, my nose in my book, and tried to ignore their conversation. "Is she really your girlfriend?"  
"Yeah Butters, whatever," he sounds like he's getting bored with answering everyone's questions.

"Well, remember how I dated that girl from Raisins, Lexis? It ended badly… just don't get your heart broken or nothin'." I stifle a laugh and Cartman kicks the back of my chair.

"Whatever Butters, I'm not you. I wouldn't get attached to that selfish bitch anyway." I turn around and look at Cartman, who's smiling at me. I growl under my breath and turn back to my book. "And between you and me," he continues, "She is a terrible kisser."

"Will you give it a rest already?" Kenny says from my right. He's staring back at Cartman, looking like he's getting annoyed. "Besides- you seemed to get pretty into it, so don't go saying she was a bad kisser. You were the one basically eating her face."

I feel my temperature shoot up beyond normal levels. Butters seems to sense the tension brewing between them and walks back to his desk.

"Oh come on, Kenny," Stan says looking up from his math homework, "No one wants to hear that."

"Not my fault it's true," Kenny shoots a smile at me, then turns back to look at Cartman. I, too, turn around and he's bright red and sputtering nervously.

"F-fuck off Kenny, I was _so_ not into it."

I snort and turn back around. 'Not into it' my ass- he was the one groping at me until I finally respo-

I have to stop myself from finishing that sentence. I don't want to think about it. We agreed not to bring it up.

The bell rings loudly, signifying the beginning of lunch, and Cartman and I stand up at the same time. I look over at him- he looks as awkward and embarrassed as I feel. I guess I wasn't the only one having a rotten day.

"Stan, I have to stop at my locker first," I say as we walk toward the entrance of the room, Kenny running ahead of us. "I'll meet you in the cafeteria."

He nods and pats my back, "Feel better dude. You look like you have a fever now."

I sigh. Don't remind me.

I walk the opposite direction of the crowd, heading toward my locker, and I see Kenny waiting for me at my locker.

"Hey, dude, what's up?" I ask, walking over to him and my locker. I spin my combination into the lock and pull it open, retrieving my lunch money from the bottom of the locker. He's just standing there smiling at me- he looks slightly creepy.

"Nothing… I was just wondering something."

I close the door and turn my back on him. "Well, what is it?" I start walking back toward the cafeteria. Maybe if I could convince Stan and Kenny to sit away from Cartman, I could avoid thinking about the incident for the rest of the day-

"So, _Kylie_," Kenny says. I stop dead in my tracks and look over my shoulder at the blonde. Did he just say what I think he did?

"Ky-Kylie?" I ask, trying to sound innocent. No. Kenny can't know it's me. No way.

"Is _Eric_ a good kisser?" he's grinning ear to ear. My stomach does flip flops.

"You _knew_?" I ask, my mouth dry.

"Of course," he pauses and tucks a lock of blonde hair behind his ear. "That's why it was so fun."

"You planned it? You knew who I was… and yet you made me ki-kiss _Cartman_?" I'm practically screaming. I can't believe it. Kenny was supposed to be my _friend_.

"I knew since I saw you in Eterna town, it was completely obvious to someone as familiar with the female anatomy as I. I mean, how could anyone miss that Jewfro?" You're _kidding_. "You have no idea how hard it was to keep a straight face when I was flirting with you, Kyle, you're so cute when you're embarrassed."

"You son of a-

"Come on Kyle, it was funny. That one little kiss is going to make this entire school year fun for me."

I can't believe him. I ball my hands into fists.

"I am going…" I say forcing anger into every word, "to kill you. And keep killing you, until you _stay_ dead, you sick, perverted-

"Kyle, it needed to be done, don't blame me. All that pent up sexual frustration from your years of fighting, it was just waiting to happen-

"Shut up, Kenny," I say, shoving him into the metal wall of the lockers and raising my fist. Curse the fact he is an inch taller than me- I really don't care right now. "You're supposed to be my friend, one of my best friends! How could you put me through that?"

He laughs. "God, you're really in denial. So tell me, how do you feel about Cartman, Kyle?"  
I narrow my eyes and keep my hand in his face. "I obviously despise him with every bone in my body."

"If that's the case," he asks very quietly, "why did you kiss him back?"

I splutter and lower my hand a bit. I was caught off guard. "What? What do you mean 'kiss him back?" I know I'm the same shade of red as my hair.

He smiles again. "You kissed him back, Kyle."

"That was so no one would figure out who I was!"

"Tsk tsk Kyle, all I said was he had to kiss _you_. I never said you had to reciprocate it."

I stop dead in my tracks and stare at Kenny, who's continuing to smile at me. WHAT? I raise my fist again and look at him menacingly.

"Come on, Kyle, you can't be that-

A loud crack penetrates the air as someone's fist (that wasn't my own) is heard making contact with Kenny's chin. I blink. For once, the person saving me wasn't Cartman.

Wendy stood between Kenny and I, breathing heavily.

"You…" she begins. I had only heard her that mad once before, and that was when Cartman kept making fun of breast cancer. That was the same time she beat the living shit out of him.

"You… are the lowest form of scum I have ever met," she says, her tone very dark. I am glad I only see the back of her head, because I am scared to see her face. Kenny looks pissed, then he laughs and stands up straight again, looking down at her.

He rubs his chin where she hit him. "Look, Wendy, you have to admit it was funny-

"How DARE you toy with people's feelings like that?" her voice cuts through the air. We lucked out being the only people in the hall, otherwise people would have started gathering. "That is not funny at all, Kenny! You absolutely disgust me. In my book, you are now _below_ Cartman."

Remind me never to tick off Wendy. She glances over her shoulder at me, "Let's go, Kyle, before I actually hurt him."

I nod and look back at Kenny one more time. He looks slightly disappointed. "Kenny," I begin, "I don't know if I'll forgive you."

He smiles. "You will when you realize you should thank me." He puts his hands in his pockets and walks toward the exit of the building, the opposite direction from the cafeteria.

I frown and follow Wendy, who was already halfway down the hall. Kenny's words echo in my head and my frown deepens.

It was not 'waiting to happen'. I don't know what Kenny meant. It wasn't destined to happen or shit like that- he's the one who caused it! He's supposed to be my friend and he made Cartman and I kiss each other for his own sick amusement. He planned it from the beginning. He doesn't even know what hell he's causing Cartman and I right now…

And, 'kissed him back'? He tricked me. That's why I kissed him back. I didn't mean anything by it. I obviously was tricked. I didn't enjoy it, I don't have any hidden feelings of lust for _Cartman_ of all people. We were tricked. God, I should just tell Cartman that Kenny knew. That would be a way to kill him off for a few weeks.

I feel my face- I was still warm. I was tricked by Kenny. That's all. So why am I blushing?

"Are you alright, Kyle?" we're outside the cafeteria now. Wendy twirls around and looks at me. She seems concerned.

"I'm fine," I reply automatically. Actually, no, I'm not fine. "I just can't believe Kenny did that to me."

She pouts angrily, "He just thought it was amusing… you know what he's like. I'm sure he didn't mean to hurt you or anything-

"But now everyone's talking about it! I'm just trying to forget about it and everywhere I turn people just keep reminding me! I fucking needed the job! That's why I did it! I didn't have any ulterior motives or shit like that! I need the money- I need to get away from my family!" I yell at her, all my feelings from the last days spilling out. She blinks- surprised at my outburst.

Her green eyes seem to soften. "I'm sorry, Kyle… I didn't know that's why you had the job." Her eyes flicker, "It must be… really hard."

I stop- I didn't tell her? I thought I would have by now… I sigh. "It's fine… I just want to only rely on myself in college. You know, not need them… for anything."

She nods in an understanding way. "I get it. I need the job… to save up for my future too." She smiles her million-dollar smile. "After college, I want to get married, so I thought it best to start saving up now…"

This girl thinks farther ahead than I do. I smile at her and ask teasingly, "To who? Stan?"

She blushes furiously and covers her face with her hands. "N-not exactly… I mean, the thought has crossed my mind, but who knows…" she's rambling.

Bomb number two of the day has been deployed.

"You do mean Stan!" I say almost in disbelief.

"Well… I mean I do love him… but who knows where things will go…"

"You love him?" I ask. Well, no shit he loves her, but I didn't know their relationship was so strong…

"I mean, I think it's love," Wendy says quietly, as if she is unsure. "Every time I'm with him, I just feel complete… he's always thinking of my wellbeing before his own. If he wasn't around, I'd go crazy. I always worry about what he thinks and I spend time so much time thinking about him, I don't even catch myself doing it. I know where he is all the time… just from a feeling I get. We have this connection that I know nothing can come between and no one else would understand. And, I can't imagine my life without him… I guess it sounds kind of silly…"

I don't really understand, I hate to admit, but I shouldn't say that. "No, Wendy, it doesn't sound silly at all." She smiles at me, looking slightly relieved.

"Anyway, please don't tell Stan any of the things I've told you… I don't want to scare him off." She waves at me and walks into the cafeteria. I follow her in and think about the things she said.

It's love when you can't imagine your life without the other person? I can't imagine my life without a horrid Cartman in it, but that doesn't mean I love him…

"Hey guys!" Stan waves at us from across the room at a table by himself. "Where's Kenny?"

"Don't worry about it," Wendy says, smiling at him. He wraps his arms around her and kisses her on the cheek. In that moment, I can't help but be happy for them.

/\/\/\

"Why does that asshole always want to copy off of my work?" I ask halfway through lunch. I was still thinking about our argument this morning, when he fucking brought out everything I would consider over the line. I was still tired, but he really ruined my day. Him and Kenny. "He is smart enough to do it on his own anyway, but… I mean- other people did the homework. He should copy someone else's. I mean- Butters always does it, and he's better at math than I am! He should just copy him. Why does he always want mine if he knows I don't want to…"

"Because it's yours," Stan answers plainly; Wendy nods in agreement. I look up at him and he elaborates. "I mean, it's yours. He loves just doing things to get a reaction out of you, Kyle. How long have we known him? He always does things just to irritate you or cause you to yell at him."

I blink. "That's retarded."

Stan shrugs and digs into his mac and cheese again with his spoon. "It makes sense to me. What better way to get you to yell at him than for him to annoy you?"

I sigh loudly. I don't get it. Why does he enjoy annoying me so much?

"Speaking of that idiot," Wendy says, turning toward her boyfriend. "Where is he now?"  
Stan narrows his eyes, "He went outside with Butters. He split right after class."

I yawn loudly, suddenly overcome with the tiredness from lack of sleep. Stan looks at me. "Dude, you should just skip the library after school today and go home, you could use the sleep."

Understatement. But I can't miss work. I now had seven hundred dollars. At the rate I was earning money, I'd be able to pay for college in no time. I couldn't miss one day…

"I'll be fine…" I stand up and look down at the others. "I'm gonna go to the classroom and try to sleep before class. Later."

I weave through the tables and other students in an attempt to get to the door. Once I walk through the empty hall and head into the classroom, I literally feel myself falling apart. I am so tired.

I walk up to my desk and sit down quickly, putting my head down and breathing in deeply. I had ten minutes to catch up on three nights of no sleep. Perfect.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\\\\\\

Author's Note:

I love reviews. It means people read the story. :D So, if you haven't reviewed yet, please do so. Not much else to say except I have no idea how long this story will be anymore. It's fun, therefore I keep writing.

Thanks to all those who have reviewed so far! It gives me motivation to write the next chapter.

Much Love, OR


	10. Anything but Strangers

Author: OnigiriReject

Summary: Kyle is spotted working his job as a waitress by none other than Cartman. Will Cartman keep his secret? And what's with that smile of his?

Pairings: KyCart with undertones of Stendy.

~South Park and all characters belong to Matt Stone and Trey Parker, I'm just borrowing them for a little fun. ~

Chapter Ten: Anything but Strangers

"_Get up," she says. Light shows through my closed eyelids and I groan.  
"Wha…" I'm still asleep... what time is it? I feel the sheets being pulled off my sheets and I open my eyes. My mom is looking down at me very unhappily._

"_I can't sleep, so neither should you. Get up," she says again, crossing her arms and staring down at me. I push myself upright in my bed and blink at her for a few moments. I look at my analog alarm clock._

"_Mom, it's two thirty in the morning…"_

"_I don't care. And neither should you," she takes a deep breath. "Your report card came in the mail today, Kyle."_

_I rub my eyes. "And?" I wasn't in the mood to be awake, let alone get scolded for my grades. Again._

"_And do you mind explaining to me how you have a 'D' in Spanish?" she narrows her eyes and keeps her arms crossed. We are the only ones in the house tonight. Ike is out partying at a friend's house and Dad is away at work._

"_I forgot to do a homework assignment," I say. I'd already talked to the teacher about it; I know what I need to do to pull it up. "We have such little homework in that class that if we even miss one our grade goes down-_

"_Do you realize what you're doing to your future? To your life? You don't seem to realize, Kyle, that the things you do now severely affect what you could do. When you try to get into law school, they're going to look back and see this 'D' and their decision might be based on that. Your grades have been slipping all year!"_

"_Mom, it's one 'D'. And the only one I've ever gotten, so it's not-_

"_Don't speak to me like that! Your brother never gets 'D's, and look- he's already in your grade! He doesn't have any 'D's!"_

_She can't be serious… "That's because he's a genius!"  
"There's nothing that says you can't do the same! Obviously, I haven't been strict enough with you, Bubbe, otherwise you'd be moved up grades as well! So, now," she steps back, leaving enough space in my vision to let me look around my room. "You will go through your closet and all your things. Anything that your father or I gave to you, without you earning it, will go into the closet downstairs, and I will have the only key. You will earn your things back."_

_My mouth falls open. That was most of my things, except my phone. Almost all of my clothes. "Mom, you can't be-_

"_Kyle, listen to me! Do it _now_!" She points at the closet door. I stand up and numbly walk over to it._

"_Mom, please, it was just one 'D', I already spoke with the teacher-_

"_Do it right now so I can go back to sleep!" she yells at me. She is just going to stand there and watch me sort through all my worldly possessions. I don't want to make her any more angry. She was one of those people that when they got mad, they threw things._

_My running shoes- closet._

"_You can't use the TV anymore. I will give you an amount of hours you can watch it, and you will earn those hours._

_My ipod- closet._

"_Weekends are devoted to studying from now on. No more constantly playing with Stan or Kenny. You have to work if you want to see them._

_Three quarters of my clothes- closet. My trapper hat, since my first one was destroyed in middle school, was a gift from Stan, so I get to keep it. And my orange jacket. Basically everything else is now property of my mom._

_My cell phone is thrown at my feet. She states in a calm voice, "I want you to call your father and explain to him how you have a 'D'." I look up at her. "Do it now, Kyle. I want you to tell him how you managed to forget to do one homework assignment and now your whole future has been shattered. Tell him how irresponsible you are."_

_I pick up the phone and dial his number, cursing to myself about the fact it was almost three in the morning. It rings four times and there's no answer. I hang up and, without turning back to look at my mom, begin to stuff my possessions in the bags she'd laid out for the purpose of collecting next to all my things._

"_Why didn't you leave a message, Bubbe?" she asks. I can hear the anger in her supposedly sentimental tone._

"_It's the middle of the night. I'll call him back in the morning." The first bag is full. I look into my closet. The only things left were a measly two t shirts and a pair of jeans, the shirts both gifts from relatives and the jeans were Stan's old ones. She can't seriously expect me to wear that every day…_

"_Your brother has been offered a spot in a prestigious private school for next year, and you haven't been on honor roll once since this school year began! Do you know what I have to hear from other parents? I have to listen to them brag on and on about their children's achievements and good grades and offers from colleges. I mention Ike, but they always ask about you. What am I supposed to say? What is there to say about what you can do?  
"You might be smart, Kyle, but intelligence will only get you so far. You need to work harder and harder. I missed opportunities because of things I did, I don't want you to go down the same path-_

"_I'm not __**you**__," I say in the most biting tone possible._

"_I know. If you were, you wouldn't be so stupid as to be failing because of one homework assignment. Unless you're lying to me again and you failed a test."_

_I don't even answer. It's too late and she's too angry to listen to me. To be honest, I'm a little afraid of what she'd do if I anger her too much._

"_I'm beginning to think it's those friends of yours, Kyle, they're a bad example. I know what kind of family the McCormick's and the Cartman's are, and the Marsh's might be nice but they never were too bright. You need to start focusing on your future- rethink the friends you have. Especially that Cartman boy- nothing good has ever come from him or his mom-_

"_He's not my friend, Mom," I answer bluntly. He's not. He's just there always trying to keep me from happiness._

"_Don't correct me, Kyle, I know who your friends are! What kind of mother do you take me for?" her eyes begin to water. Her voice remains raised. "Maybe it's my fault you aren't doing well…. Maybe I'm just a poor mother…" she begins to sniff sporadically as tears trickle out of her eyes._

"_Mom…" I begin, putting down the clothes I was folding and putting into the bag and walking over to her. She backward steps out of my room._

"_Don't you dare act like you love me just to get your things back," she says stubbornly, tears still rolling down her cheeks. "You're lying to me and failing… I'm just a failure as a mother."_

"_No, you're not Mom," I begin, trying to calm her down. "You're not. I really do love you, but sometimes I lose track of-_

"_DON'T LIE TO ME ANYMORE, KYLE!" the house vibrates from the sheer harshness of her voice. "If you really loved me, you'd be someone I could be proud to call my son!"_

_A sharp pain tugs at my chest exactly where my heart is. She continues, "Until you are someone worth my devotion, you are to work your hardest and devote every hour to your schoolwo-_

"_Mom, I do work my hardest! You aren't listening to me-_

_A scented candle in glass kept on the hall banister suddenly collided on the floor between my mom and I, shattering the glass case around it and sending fragments around my room. Tears sting my eyes._

_She speaks in a cold tone, "Work your hardest and you shall be rewarded. Finish putting your things in the bags and I'll move everything into the closet downstairs. Also, leave your phone with me in the morning. I'm going to get a tracking chip inside it so I know where you are at all times. And I'll be able to know if you're lying."_

_She flicks off the light switch and closes the door behind her, leaving me standing alone in the dark. I stand still for another minute, my stomach knotting from my sadness at my mom's words, and I walk over to the door, my feet grazing the glass from the candle she broke. I feel for the familiar metal lock and twist it, locking her out for at least the rest of the night._

_At least I still could do that. I close my eyes._

/\/\/\

The sad thing is, this has happened on several occasions. Waking up with Cartman's face in mine. Like that time in Cave of the Winds, or when I briefly woke up while I was contracting the HIV virus from him (and fell back asleep, not thinking anything of it). And every single time it's creepy as hell.

"Cartman?" I yell as my eyes shoot open. He backs up a bit and trips over the desks behind him. For once he's the one falling on the floor. I glance at the clock- I'd barely been asleep five minutes. I stand up and glare down at Cartman. "You asshole- I was sleeping!"

"Well _maybe_," he says, pushing himself off the floor and drawing up to his full height. "If you didn't sleep in public then these things wouldn't happen!"  
"What the hell were you doing to me this time, fat ass?" I inwardly sigh. He's not fat anymore, I just got so used to calling him that, that it's replaced his real name.

"No-thing," he replies in his 'nice' voice. I feel my veins popping in my forehead.

"I'm seriously not in the mood, Cartman. Just tell me what you were doing so I can fix it before my day gets even worse!"

"He wasn't doing anything, Kyle," I glance over and see Butters standing in the doorway. I glare at him.

"You were standing there the whole time while he was doing god-knows-what to me, and you think I'll believe you?"

"Bu-but he really was doing nothin'! He was just lookin' at yo-"  
"Shut up, Butters," Cartman says in a dangerous tone of voice. His cheeks are slightly red. He looks at me, "I wasn't doing anything, don't fucking worry." He takes the seat in front of me and sits down, his back to me, leaving me gaping after him. There was no way I'd kissed this asshole back. Kenny fucking provoked it.

"I don't believe you," I say. My day was already sucking enough. Why can't he just tell me what he did so I won't have to deal with it later?

"Since when do I care?" he replies, not turning around.

"What did you do to me-

"Fucking Jew, just shut up!" he turns around in his chair and glares at me. "I was trying to see if that person I had on my mouth the other day was really _you_ or maybe I lucked out and got some _other_ whore."

My eyes widen and I look over at Butters. He's fidgeting between his feet. I glower at Cartman. "Did you fucking tell Butters?"

It seems he'd forgotten Butters was in the room. He looks over at him. "Butters, forget everything we are speaking about until the bell rings. And leave the room."

He nods and exits the room. I can't believe how much control Cartman has over him…

"I didn't tell Butters," he explains, still sitting at the desk.

The crease in my forehead deepens. "Did you tell Kenny?"

He laughs as if I told a joke. "No, why the fuck would I tell that poor asshole-

"Because he knows."

Cartman looks like I just told him the world was ending in two minutes. Hell, maybe it was. The color drains from his face. I'm vaguely reminded of the time Stan and I had to explain to him that putting Butters' dick in his mouth made him gay- he has the same dumbstruck expression.

"What?" he asks in a monotone voice. He stands up quickly and looks down at me. "You're kidding."

"I wish I was," I answer. I sit down in my chair as another wave of tiredness comes over me. My head is spinning.

"Why the hell did you tell him, Jew?" he yells at me. His face is still white.

"I didn't tell him!" I yell back. I was getting really annoyed with this asshole.

"Well then, how did he figure it out?"

"Maybe because not everyone is as retarded as you not to recognize someone they've known their whole life!" I sneer at him, he just scoffs at me and looks at the entrance to the classroom.

"I'm going to fucking kill him…" Cartman says, making a beeline for the door.

"Where are you going?" I yell at him.

"None off your business, kike!" he yells as he stomps out of the room, leaving me utterly alone. My face is red with anger. Fucking Kenny- I'm so mad at him. He has no idea what he's caused. Or, he probably knows but just doesn't care. Just then, the bell rings throughout the school, signifying the beginning of the next period, and students begin to pour in. I sigh- I'm never going to be able to sleep again.

/\/\/\

I close my front door behind me and sigh. I'm back home- I decided, since I was falling asleep in the last periods of the day, it was better not to go to work today. I told Wendy to tell Mr. Yamamoto I was sick. My pay will be docked, but I could care less right now, I'm just in too bad of a mood and too fucking tired to deal with people. Cartman and Kenny didn't show up to any of the other classes after lunch- wouldn't surprise me if Cartman was arrested for murder in the first degree.

"Kyle?" my mom calls from the living room. "Why are you home so early? You said you were going to study in the library!"

I call back, "Sorry, Mom, I really wasn't feeling well today-

"You never feel well, don't use that as an excuse. Why are you home?" She walks into the hall with her hands on her hips. "Your father is with a client right now, but we'll discuss this when he gets home. You lied to us again, Kyle, you said you'd go to the library and really you were going to sneak home!"  
"I'm telling the truth Mom! I really don't feel well!"

She sighs and rubs her eyes in an irritated gesture. "When will you stop lying? Just leave and go to the library. Come back when you've finished your homework. Show me your assignment notebook later and I will check off if you've done it. How will you get into law school like th-

I slam the door behind me and cut off the end of her sentence. Her voice bellows through the walls, "KYLE BROFLOVSKI DON'T TURN YOUR BACK ON ME!"

I run through the snow-covered streets until I reach the familiar bus stop.

/\/\/\

I grabbed a cup of coffee from the McDonalds on the way to work and changed in the bathroom. To be awake during my shift, since I was being denied my nap by _darling dearest_ Mother, I would need it.

As soon as I enter in my complete waitress outfit, I am basically doused in pink and glitter. The whole dining area is covered in grotesque pinks and reds, with glitter hearts glued on the normally black ceiling.  
"What's going on?" I ask when I reach Mercedes, who's next to a window pinning up a large banner. Her outfit has been changed as well- she normally wore the Guardian Angel outfit, but now she had a bow and arrows strapped to her back and a large pink bow tied around her middle.

She looks over at me and smiles widely, "Kylie! Mr. Yamamoto said you weren't coming. I'm so glad you're here today- a lot of the girls are busy and Wendy and Acura are the only other waitresses here!"

I'm confused, "Again, what's going on?"

She flashes the banner she was trying to tack above the window at me. It reads 'Happy Valentines Day!' I feel myself growing sick.

"It's next Tuesday- all the girls are working then!" She smiles again and turns back to her work. She calls to me over her shoulder, "Go get some decorations from the backroom. We're allowed to decorate today until some customers come in. Luckily, today's slow. I look forward to it every year! I just love putting pink everywhere!"

I take another shocked look around the room and walk into the backroom. There is no difference in this room, except all our names had been written in pink puffy paint on the lockers and loose glitter decorated the floor. Wendy is sitting on the bench in the middle, apparently untangling the pink and the red streamers. As soon as the door closes behind me, she drops the streamers and walks over to me.

"What are you doing here?" she asks. I remove my backpack from my back and place it in the locker labeled 'Kylie'. The 'i' was dotted with a heart. I vaguely wonder who wrote it. "You look awful Kyle, you should really go home-

"I can't. I was banished to the library, but figured I might as well come here and get extra hours in…"

She pouts at me and bends down, picking up the streamers and handing them to me. I just notice that she, too, has a bow and arrows and a large pink bow. "You look so out of it- you can just stay in here today until your shift is over. Oh, and you have a new outfit too." She points at a box in the corner. I feel myself shiver. "Don't worry- none of them are too bad."

I walk over and open the top. Right on the top, there is a plastic bag labeled 'Kylie'. Inside of it, there's a black and silver crown with pink lacy hearts on it, and a matching scepter with a large silver heart at the end. I look helplessly up at Wendy. There were more lacy black ribbons inside the bag with pink hearts tangled in them.

She smiles at me and shrugs her shoulders. "Queen of Hearts?" she offers helplessly. I frown at her.

Minutes later, Mercedes calls us out to help set out the new pink tablecloths. I hadn't changed into my new outfit yet, since I assumed I'd be able to stay in the backroom for the rest of the day. We were unfolding them and draping them on the various tables until we hear someone walk in the front door.

"Welcome to Angel Morte!" Mercedes calls happily. I keep my back to the entrance as I rearrange the salt and peppershakers on the table. I hear her exchange brief dialogue with the customer and suddenly I feel her finger tapping on my shoulder. "You've been requested, Kylie."

I look over my shoulder and see Cartman sitting down at a small table on the other side of the restaurant that had already been decorated. My stomach plummets- I am NOT in the mood to serve him right now. I glance over at Wendy, who looks at me sympathetically. I growl under my breath and walk over to him.

"Let me guess…" I say when I reach him. He doesn't look up at me. "Coffee and a slave?"

I didn't notice it when he walked in, but he doesn't look right. His hair was slightly disheveled and he wasn't wearing one of his many red coats. He was breathing heavily. "…Are you okay?" I ask before meaning to. Why should I care how he feels? If he's upset, he shouldn't be coming to my work-

"I'm fine," he answers quickly, putting his head in his hands, and never once meeting my gaze. I blink, confused. He was fine a few hours ago. What happened?

I sigh and sit down across from him. If I had to wait on him anyway, I wasn't going to try and avoid it. Mr. Yamamoto walks by, eyeing us. I smile at him and turn my attention back to Cartman.

"What is it?" I keep my voice down and say in the nicest voice I can manage. I don't want to make him angrier. I look at his white shirt- he didn't appear to have bloodstains on it from killing Kenny…

"Don't bother, Jew," he says, sounding annoyed. He wasn't even bothering with faking pleasantries tonight. I sit quietly and stare at him.

"Are you upset because of something that happened with Kenny?"  
"No," he answers defiantly. "I'm basically over it. It never happened, remember?" He sounded convincing. I think back to the potential reasons he would be upset.

"…Is it your mom?" I ask so quietly, I was sure he couldn't hear me. A moment later, he was lunging across the table at me, grabbing hold of my shoulders and shaking me.  
"Don't you _dare_ try to speak about my family life, kike," he says with as much anger as he can possibly muster. His fingers are sharply digging into my shoulders.

I yelp, push off his hands and snap back before I can help it, "Christ, Cartman! I was just trying to help you, fat ass-

"Well, you can help by not getting into my business!" his face is bright red and his eyes are narrowed to the point of no return. He looks pissed.

"_You're_ the one who came here when something was obviously bothering you-

I look around, Mercedes, Wendy and Acura pause attaching glitter and hearts to everything, and are watching us worriedly. Mr. Yamamoto is lingering outside of the backroom door- we had no bouncers working before seven o'clock. "Outside." I say, looking at him and pointing behind him at the door.

He glowers at me, obviously not caring what I say. "Don't boss me around, faggot."  
"Outside," I can feel my face turning redder every second. "_Now_."

"What the fuck was that?" I yell at him once we're outside the restaurant and out of earshot of the patrons and my co-workers. I stomp angrily in the snow with my heels. "If you try that again they're gonna ban you from the restaurant, what's more, get you arrested-

"Like I care, you dumbass," he's not looking at me. I hate when he's insulting me and doesn't even have the guts to face me. He heads down the street slightly, walking toward an office building near a streetlamp. He still didn't have a jacket on, or hat or gloves. What the hell was he thinking coming here like this? It is freezing out here.

I quickly walk up to him and yank his collar down until he's eye level with me. "Why did you come here?"

He swats my hands off him and glares down at me. Spinning his back toward me, he crosses his arms in a childish gesture. "I felt like it!"  
"Bullshit," I answer automatically. "Something was bothering you and you came to my restaurant where you _knew_ I'd be working." I can feel the anger that had been building up for the last month finally overflowing. "Are you trying to provoke me to get me fired?"

He spins around and looks at me, "No- why the fuck would I do that?"  
Because he'd think it was fun. "Because you know I need this job! You know I need the money! I told you before- you just want to cause me problems to get me fired-

He throws his hands up in the air and loudly projects, "Boohoo, I make life so hard for the little Jew, because I obviously have nothing better to do with my time."

"YOU DON'T HAVE ANYTHING BETTER TO DO WITH YOUR TIME! You always try to make my life harder because you think it's fun!" My hands are balled into fists now. I just wanted to hit him. I didn't need him making my life any harder to get through than it already was.

He snorts, "Whatever, Kahl, just keep living in your own little world, thinking that everything revolves around you-

"You're a fucking hypocrite. You act like everything revolves around you! You don't bother to learn anything that doesn't pertain directly to you!"

"Fine then, kike, tell me what is so _hard_ in your life that you need all this money for."

I can hear his mocking undertones. "I already told you."

"Oh, because of your mom." He raises a hand up to his eye and pretends to wipe away a tear. "Boo-hoo-hoo."

My anger boils inside me, ready to burst. I say through gritted teeth, "Don't do that Cartman, I'm warning you."

He laughs mockingly, "Why not? It's true! You're such a whore, Kahl, you'd do anything for money. What is so _bad_ about your family life that you're willing to dress up like a girl to get away?"

"It's none of your fucking business what goes on at my house."

"It is when you involve me in it! Why the hell do you need money so badly you'd hand feed someone you hate?"  
Self control: gone. "I WANT TO GET AWAY FROM HER!" I yell at him, feeling the blood rushing through all my veins.

"Like your life is so hard. Stop acting like a charity case, Jew, and get over yourself," he says plainly, waving his hand in a dismissive gesture.

"Why are you so fucked up!" I shout. I hated seeing his smug face, I hated seeing him at school and at work every day. He revels in my demise. He loves seeing me knocked down. I hate him. "Why can't you just leave me alone?"

"I've tried, Kahl!" he yells at me. He looks just as angry as I am. "I've tried to leave you alone, but I can't! Don't fucking pin all your problems on me just because you can't deal with your own mom-"

"Don't _even_ start, Cartman, _don't even start_!" I yell at him. Didn't he get it? "Stop prying into my life! I don't want anything to do with you! I don't want to see you, I hate serving you! No amount of money could make anyone _want_ to be near you! I HATE YOU!"

"Why, because I'm telling the truth?"

"You don't know anything about my life, fat ass, so don't act like it!"

"You hate your mom because she's always around? You hate her because she wants you to do your best and try your hardest in everything?" He yells, "What about your dad- you _have_ one, don't you? You have _two_ people who love you and go out of their way for you!"

I can't believe him, acting like he knows what my life is like! "_You_ have _your_ mom! Just because she's not around doesn't mean she doesn't love you!"

He snorts, "Yeah my mom who I haven't seen in over a month? I would forget what she looked like if she didn't send me fucking postcards from her vacations! You don't understand anything outside of your own ass, you god damn kike!"

I shove my pointer finger into his face, "Don't belittle my people, you racist asshole!"  
"Don't act like such a stupid pussy!" He swats away my hand and pushes his face into mine. He looks me in the eyes and slows his breathing. His voice is suddenly much calmer and more controlled, "You… don't understand anything. You've always had your friends there for you, your family, but until you only have yourself and you only stand up with your own help, don't act like you're on equal footing with _me_."

I'm speechless. Our faces were in each other's. Hard to believe barely seventy-six hours ago I was making out with this disgusting person.

"Good, now that that's cleared up," he says, smirking slightly. "Stay out of my life." He takes a step backward like he's going to leave.

I can't believe him. "Get out of mine! _You_ came _here_- don't act like I'm following you-

"Fuck off, kike."

"STOP CALLING ME THAT!" I take a swing at his head, but he dodges it with ease and shoves me with such a sharp force that I fall to the ground. Cartman has gotten stronger since we were little, since all his baby fat spread out, and he has a good three inches on me in height, but fuck it. I will _not_ let him beat me in a fight.

I push myself off the ground and lunge forward at him, growling and grabbing hold of his middle, tackling him into the snow. Snow is flying everywhere and he curses as his back makes contact with the icy ground. I take this chance to punch every inch of skin he has showing- starting with his stupid, ego-inflated head.

"Fucking Jew!" he yells as I punch him once across his face. He pushes me off him with ease and stands up. I stand up as well, ready for anything runs toward me, his right arm stretched, ready for a punch. I duck under his arm as he swings and attempt to tackle him again. He catches me and swings me around, my back colliding with the wall of the office building. I wince and curse loudly.

I open my eyes and his hands are closed around my wrists, keeping me pinned to the wall. He kicks my left knee- I yell loudly, my eyes are watering and I look up at him. I stop.

His face is angry, but there is something in his eyes that's keeping me from cussing him out and kicking him. They looked watery. He's breathing loudly and his chest is moving up and down. His left cheek looks red from where I hit him. He looks like he's ready to kick my ass at any moment, but his eyes look… pained if anything.

"…Cartman?" I ask quietly. He releases his grip slightly and lets go of me, looking away and taking a few steps back. I continue to watch him, almost fascinated with the fact he didn't keep pulverizing me. He had me pinned.

"I'm leaving," he says quietly, still not looking at me. I keep watching him, just in case he changes his mind and decides to attack me again. He doesn't- he just turns his back on me and walks in the direction of the bus stop.

Suddenly, the fact I'm not wearing a jacket and I'm standing outside in the cold hits me, and I'm shivering.

/\/\/\

"Kylie- what happened?" Mercedes asks as soon as I enter the restaurant again. "Oh my god- you're bleeding!"

"Kyle!" Wendy drops the box of hearts she was holding and runs over to me. I don't even care if anyone heard her mess up my name- I am still so riled up from our fight that I can feel my hands shaking. Wendy reaches me and picks up my right hand. The back of it and its knuckles were red with a fresh coat of blood from being scraped against the bricks of the office building.

"Oh…" I say softly, still grimacing. Wendy meets my eyes, a concerned look on her face.

"We're disinfecting this…" she says, and pulls me through the restaurant by my hand. "We'll be back out in a few, Mercedes," she calls over her shoulder as we turn into a corner, into the women's restroom.

The door shuts behind us and she lets go of me. "Kyle, what happened? Did you get into a fight with Cartman?" she's looking at me, expecting an answer.

"Cartman…" I begin, my mind not with me at the moment. I was still thinking about the pained look on his face he had when he pushed me into the wall. "Was in a bad mood, came here, and we started arguing." He pretended he understood what my life is like. He has no fucking idea.

"Come here," she motions me to join her next to the sink. She grabs my right hand, "Your other one, too, then your knee. You're covered." I glance down and, indeed, my left hand is bleeding as well. How did I not notice the pain while I was getting cut? Now both my hands are emanating a dull pain.

I stick both my hands in the sink and Wendy turns the knob. Freezing cold water shoots out of the faucet, spraying both of my hands.

"Fuck!" I say, as I wince from the pain. She grimaces.

"Well, you shouldn't be fighting while you're supposed to be working anyway. It is Cartman, but you could get fired… your lucky your dress wasn't ruined…"

I'm worlds away from what Wendy is saying to me. My mind is still on our fight. What we said. The sad look on his face.

"_You hate your mom because she's always around? You hate her because she wants you to do your best and try your hardest in everything? What about your dad- you have one, don't you? You have two people who love you and go out of their way for you!"_

He doesn't know what it's like to have your brother beat you at everything, then have your mom punish you because you aren't as smart. He never had friends to lose in the process. His mom would never take anything away from him or punish him. He doesn't understand a damn thing, so why does he act like he does?

He just loves making me mad. Making my situations worse. I hate him, I hate him, I hate him!

"Kyle! Calm down!" Wendy puts her hand on mine and I'm jerked back to the bathroom and washing the blood off my hands. Apparently I was tightening my fists so much that my nails were digging into the palms of my hands. I loosen my grip and look at her.

"Sorry, Wendy… I can take it from here."

She looks at me, concerned, then sighs. "Alright, Kyle. I'll see you out there in a bit."

She exits the bathroom, leaving me alone with the water on. I turn the knob, stopping the flow of water, and look at my hands. Both the backs were covered in tiny scraps, some deep and some artificial. I would have to hide them from my mom so it wouldn't look suspicious.

I grab some paper towels and douse them in water, turning my attention to my knee. It was dripping blood onto the tiled floor. How did I get this cut?

"_You have your mom! Just because she's not around doesn't mean she doesn't love you!"_

_He snorts, "Yeah my mom who I haven't seen in over a month? I would forget what she looked like if she didn't send me fucking postcards from her vacations! You don't understand anything outside of your own ass, you god damn kike!"_

I stop wiping at the cut and think. Cartman was alone at home? But, his mom wasn't home last week either. When we were walking home from Angel Morte…

"_How's your mom?"_

"_How the fuck should I know, you fucking Jew?"_

"_Fucking Christ, Cartman! I was just asking!"  
"Well it's none of your God damn business so keep your nosy Jew nose out of it!... She's… safe. Somewhere in town. I haven't seen her for three weeks."_

"_Three weeks?" _

I stop- it had been that long? How long had it been since there was someone in his house? I mean… even when I go home, my mom isn't my favorite person, but there's someone there… I do everything myself, but at least someone is there. Another person is living and breathing in my house.

I pictured Cartman sitting on his couch watching TV with all the lights out. No car in the driveway, nobody restocking the food. Cartman… utterly pathetic. How long had this been going on?

His mom had always been a whore, but recently she seemed to be leaving for longer periods of time. What did he do to get around? Without friends, and without a dad, what did he do when he was home alone? It was utterly pathetic to imagine.

I always thought I was the only one who was completely alone. I was the only one who could only rely on myself. I've been jealous of Cartman. He has a mom that loves him unconditionally and spoils him without him doing anything… but she's been gone.

Since my mom completely isolated me all of last year, I wouldn't have noticed if there was a change in Cartman's behavior. Only when Clyde mentioned Angel Morte in class did the people around me matter again. I was lost. Now, I had my friends again.

Had I really failed to notice someone undergoing the same thing I had? Had he been alone this entire time? As long as I had? Maybe longer?

How long had he been alone?

I look up into the bathroom mirror and I finally see how bad I look. There was ice dripping in my hair, my dress was on crooked, and my arms were bleeding and bruised from scraping against the wall and the ice. I look into the reflection of my eyes and see the same thing I saw in Cartman's.

I suddenly felt very bad for the things I'd said to him. The pained look in his eyes danced in my mind, and I now realize why they looked like that…

Fuck.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\\/\\/

/\/\/\/\\\\/\/\/\/\

Author's Note:

OMG! My fic has fan art! My fic has fan art! I'll post the links in my profile, but both Emily Cartman and Hydra-Lantern drew wonderful pictures of Waiting on an Enemy. I feel so blessed, thank you very much!

If anyone else has done something, just message me on here or on my DA (also OnigiriReject)! It makes me so happy to see other artists draw stories I've created… Mrah excited! Super special awesome thank you to Emily for her picture of Kylie in his waitress dress! And thank you Hydra-Lantern for drawing my favorite scene from chapter eight. You're right, Cartman dropping Kylie is hilarious, especially in comic form! :D THANK YOU BOTH SO MUCH AGAIN!

And, thank you for everyone who's been keeping up with this story so far, and reviewing! It has come to my attention that I accidentally kept anonymous reviews off. I did that back when I started writing to avoid flaming, but at this point, I feel like the people reviewing are mature enough to not do that.

So, if you don't have a FF account, you can review as well now! Yay!

Much Love, OR


	11. Melted Ice

Author: OnigiriReject

Summary: Kyle is spotted working his job as a waitress by none other than Cartman. Will Cartman keep his secret? And what's with that smile of his?

Pairings: KyCart with undertones of Stendy.

~South Park and all characters belong to Matt Stone and Trey Parker, I'm just borrowing them for a little fun. ~

Chapter Eleven: Melted Ice

When I woke up this morning, I was pretty happy. After all- it was Friday. TGIF and all that shit. Of course, I then noticed the healing scrapes on the back of my hands from when Cartman pushed me against the building next to Angel Morte. And I remembered our argument. Fuck.

I couldn't fall asleep the night before, too much on my mind, so I drank some more nighttime cold medicine. It worked, I slept about seven hours, and it felt great. I ran down the stairs and out the door before my mom could get a word in edgewise.

At school, instead of the familiar asshole sitting in front of me, I was met with the oh-so-cheerful Butters when I walked into class this morning. He proceeded to tell me that he would be sitting in front of me from now on. I have to admit I was a little surprised that the asshole would give up trying to make my life hell for even one day, but whatever.

Then, at lunch he didn't even go into the lunchroom. I didn't see him at all. Back in class, he was across the room for the rest of the day. Stan asked me why I kept staring at him, but the reality was that I was freaking confused. After all, why did he decide to suddenly stay away from me? For the entire time I had known him, I had been yelling at him to leave me the fuck alone. What suddenly made him decide to listen to me?

Not only that, but I have to admit, I was feeling (dare I say) _guilty_ about what I'd said to him the day before. It was… selfish of me. I was acting like I was the only one with problems, when he himself didn't even have a family to speak of. He was still Cartman. Still the asshole I had always known, but… but that didn't really give me a right to say what I said to him.

And I attacked him. Granted, he hit me back, but I couldn't help but feel guilty.

The bell rang at the end of the day, signifying the end of class and the beginning of my shift at work. Cartman was gone before I even got out of my seat. I glared at his seat- what the fuck was his problem? Was he actually avoiding me?

"Kyle, what's wrong?" I look over at Stan, who's watching me worriedly. Wendy is looking at me from across the room as well. "You've looked mad all day."  
I growl, "It's nothing."

"It's something," Kenny pipes up and grins. He walked up to our table at lunch and announced he was back again. I still don't know if Cartman killed him and he came back the next day, or what. I'm still completely pissed at him, though. He's smiling at me innocently from behind a curtain of blonde hair, "Would you like to share as to why you were staring at Cartman all day?"

I glare at him and swing my backpack over my shoulder. "None of your god damn business, you manipulative ass," I reply. Kenny smiles widely.

"Oh Kyle, you're even beginning to sound like him. Tell me- are you going to see him tonight, or-

"Fuck off," I say bluntly, beginning to walk out of the room.

"Uh, Kyle?" Butters says, causing me to turn around and glower at him. He shivers under my stare. "Uh, Eric said he won't be botherin' you anymore. So I dunno if that means you'll see him tonight or what, but he seemed really upset today-

"WHY THE HELL DOES EVERYONE FEEL THEY HAVE THE NEED TO BRING UP CARTMAN?" I yell back. FUCK I am getting so TIRED of it! Mother effing agh!

I ran out of the school and toward the familiar bus stop, cursing Butters, Kenny, and especially Cartman, the entire way.

/\/\/\

"Who ordered the hamburger?" I ask cheerfully to the elderly couple I am serving. The older man smiles at me and raises his hand. I place it in front of him. "And I will be right back with your chicken breast, ma'am," I nod to his wife. I turn on my heel and head back to the kitchen where Thomas has already set out the plate for me.

"I like your crown," he says, smirking at me. I laugh at him and pick up the plate.

"I like your lacy apron," I reply. He curses under his breath but continues to smile. Truthfully, everyone working right now looks absolutely ridiculous. All the girls in the white waitress dresses were made to look like Cupids, and all the ones in the black waitress dresses were made to look like the Queens of Hearts. Mr. Yamamoto even got the cooks to wear red lacy aprons and the bouncers to wear pink tuxes. Valentine's Day really was a big deal here.

"Here's your order ma'am." I smile at the old woman, placing the plate gently in front of her, and head back toward the backroom.

"Hey, Miss!" someone calls from across the room, near the kitchen. They are motioning to me. I guess no one took their orders yet… I walk over to them. They're a group of college kids- smiling at me and swaying in their seats.

"Yes, what can I help you sirs with?" I grimace at them. Another bunch of drunken frat boys- just smile and nod.

"Well, I'd like a steaming hot plate of _you_ and _that_ chick," he points over my shoulder. I look- he was pointing at Wendy (clad in angel wings) taking an order from a nearby table. "and _me_. Tonight."

I smile awkwardly as his friends laugh at his futile attempts. "I'm really not your type," I answer. For one thing, I'm not even female. "So, what could I get you-

"Come on, babe!" he says, pulling at my skirt. I hit his hand off quickly and look around for the nearest bouncers. There were outside.

I glare at him. I was told what to say in situations like this after Cartman saved me the first time. "Seriously, that is inappropriate and if you try it again, I will have to report you-"

"Aw, you know you like it," he stands up and puts his face in mine. He is greasy with pimples and smells like alcohol. His lips come way too close to mine for comfort. I draw my hand back and before I know what I'm doing, I sock him on the jaw and he's reeling backward into the table. Oh shit.

"Dude, she has a mean right hook!" one of his friends says. The greasy boy stands up and looks at me angrily.

"What the fuck is your problem, bitch?" he grabs my wrist and I hear Wendy yell for security. There's a familiar-looking red blur in front of me.

"Cartman!" I say thankfully, relief flooding through me and a smile spreading across my face.

"Get off of her!" the red blur yells. I stop- it wasn't Cartman. It was Thomas.

Suddenly there's a rush of bouncers running in front of me and picking up the idiot, making him let go of my wrist. I'm pulled back by Thomas and the whole restaurant is watching the group of drunk guys try to wrestle three bouncers, all of whom were bigger and stronger. It didn't last long and soon they were picking up the boys by their collars and dragging them out of the restaurant. Applause burst from the girls and the other patrons. I examine my dress- it appeared to be intact.

"Are you okay?" Thomas asks me, his blue eyes shining. He looks really concerned. He twitches and curses again.

"I had them under control," I say, slightly annoyed. I did get a hit in… I wasn't actually a dainty waitress girl. I could protect myself. "Thanks," I say shortly, remembering to be polite. He looks relieved.

"No problem," he twitches but continues to smile at me. He frowns suddenly, "Did you say 'Cartman' when I ran in front?"

…Oh. Right. I feel my stomach plummet, "Erm… yeah…"

"Is he that guy you're supposedly going out with?"

"Yeah. Well, I'm not actually going out with him. For reasons I can't really explain, I had to kiss him, and I don't actually like him, and the girls just take everything out of context-

"Good," he said, smiling. He looks more relieved than should be normal. "Well… I mean a few years back, that kid pretended he had Tourette's Syndrome… and almost went on national television just to curse all the Jews…" I know. I know too well. He glances at me nervously again, "And, well… I just didn't want you to be with someone like that."  
I suddenly feel really happy and break into a grin, "Thanks, Thomas. Yeah I know he has a lot wrong with him… he's a sadistic bastard with a penchant for making fun of Jews. I could never like someone like him." My words sound almost empty even to my ears.

I have to admit, I feel slightly… disappointed, as weird as that sounds, that it wasn't Cartman there saving me… I think I've just gotten so used to him being the one protecting me that-

Wait. Cartman protecting me? As if. He just saves me to make my life hell another day. He doesn't protect me, it's just him being selfish. Yeah. Why the hell did I think any differently? Asshole. Fucking asshole.

"Good," Thomas says, smiling. "I have to get back to the kitchen, but I'll see you later!"

I smile back at him. Who the hell needed Cartman? There are so many people who are nice to me and do things for me and care about me. Why the hell did I even care that he wasn't here?

He opens the kitchen door and walks in, leaving me staring after him. Wendy shoots a questioning look from across the room at me. I shrug innocently and decide it's time to get back to work.

/\/\/\

I'm lying in bed. It's eleven at night and yet again I can't sleep. I need to, though, because I have to be at work at eight. Agh. My parents were asleep as soon as I got home, so they didn't get a chance to see my cut up hands from the night before.

I glance over at my table- there is a bottle of nighttime cold pills, already open from my constant use, and my phone is lying exactly where I left it a few days ago. Never can bring it anywhere with that stupid tracking device, so I just end up leaving it at home… I lean over and pick it up, flipping it open. There's a new text message from Stan.

'Call me- need help.'

I sigh. He sent it a few hours ago, but I know he's awake. I flip open my phone and press speed dial for 'two'. I reach over to the bottle and grab two pills, throwing them into my mouth and dry swallowing them while the phone rings in my ear.

"Kyle?" Stan asks when he answers.

"Hey dude, what's wrong?" I ask right away, rubbing my eyes and looking around my dark room.

"Dude, I'm in serious trouble," he sounds really worried.

"What is it?"

"I have no idea what to get Wendy for Valentine's Day!" he says loudly. I hold the receiver away from my ear and sigh loudly.

"Stan, you don't have to yell," why is it such a big deal that he has to worry me like that?

"Sorry dude," he begins, quieting his tone slightly. "It's just, well, we've been together for years… and each year around Valentine's Day, we were usually in a fight or broken up… briefly. So I never really had to get her anything, but…"

I sigh again but smile. Stan has always been like this. I shouldn't be surprised that he would freak out about something as simple as the ultimate Hallmark holiday. "Alright, dude, so you need suggestions?"

He exhales loudly, sounding relieved. "Kinda, yeah. Thanks Kyle."

"Whatever, you know I'm terrible at these sorts of things," I say, falling back onto my bed and closing my eyes. "You've probably thought of the normal things, right? Flowers? Chocolates? Promises you don't intend to keep?"

Stan laughs. "Yeah, dude, but I mean… it's Wendy. I want to do something special, you know? I mean…"

I sigh, "I know, you love her, whatever…"

There's a pause. "Kyle… you sound down. What's wrong?"

"I'm not down!" I say enthusiastically. I don't want him to focus on me right now… I mean, he and Wendy deserve to have a happy Valentine's Day. I'm just depressed for no real reason… I don't want to bring Stan down with me. "Maybe you should just plan a dinner with just Wendy. You know, just you guys eating together somewhere. Or invite her over and do that."

Another pause, "Kyle… you're a genius!" I can practically see him beaming from the other side of the phone. "And I can have candles and roses and… Kyle, thank you so much, dude!" I can't help but crack a smile at Stan's obvious excitement. "Okay, can you promise not to tell Wendy? I want to surprise her, and I know you guys work together…"

"Sure dude, sure," I say nonchalantly. I can feel the effects of the medicine kicking in.

"Thanks Kyle, really, I'll talk to you later, okay? I have to start planning!" the line disconnects before I can reply. I place the phone back on the table and close my eyes.

There's no reason for me to feel bad right now. If anything, I guess I feel kind of lonely. I mean, Stan wanting to talk to me only to do things for Wendy? Great way to spend my Friday night.

I am happy for them. Really. I just… got used to having people around, I guess.

/\/\/\

I've been at Angel Morte my entire Saturday so far, and nothing out of the ordinary has happened yet, except Cartman hasn't shown up today either. I'm beginning to wonder if Butters really was telling the truth about him leaving me alone…

No one has tried to get too close to me today, either. Someone was trying to feel up Mercedes, but the bouncers threw them out before anything too bad could happen. I guess they've realized they need to pay more attention to the girls if they want to keep their jobs.

I have to wear the stupid little crown and carry the scepter. I asked Mr. Yamamoto and yes- I was literally supposed to be the Queen of Hearts.

Also, there's only a few more days until Valentine's Day, so some of the girls were planted outside to distribute flyers for our big 'Valentine's Day Extravaganza!'. I was in Mr. Yamamoto's office in the back, printing off more flyers for Acura and Mercury.

"Kylie?" Lexis pops her head into the backroom, I look up, "you've been requested."

I sigh loudly and walk over to her, carrying the fifty copies I made of the advertisement. I knew Cartman was going to come back at some time. Butters didn't know him as well as I did- I knew he was coming back.

I walk out of the office, Lexis close behind, and my heart sinks. Kenny was waving at me from the entrance. I glower at him, thrust the flyers at Lexis, walk over, and grab a menu from a vacated table.

"What do you want?" I ask in a low voice once I reach him. The other girls were busy with their customers and being slightly rowdy. He's smiling at me.

"Food," he replies simply.

"You're poor, Kenny, how the hell are you going to pay for this?" I reply, beckoning him to follow me to his table.

"I have my ways," I motion him to sit down at a small table. He's smiling at someone over my shoulder. I follow his gaze- it was Lexis. She was giggling and he winks at her. I roll my eyes.

"Whatever, Kenny, as long as you're not here to bust me," I thrust the menu at him and sit down across from him. I really didn't want to spend my Saturday hanging out with a horrible friend.

He looks over his menu at me and frowns, his blonde hair falling in his face. "Come on, Kyle, you can't still be mad at me."

I don't respond- I just glare at him. He sighs.

"Well, it's not my fault you were so into that stupid kis-

"I don't want to think about it," I reply. I really don't. I had been avoiding thinking about it, which was really easy today considering Cartman wasn't here and neither was Kenny. And the girls were too busy getting ready for Valentine's Day and dealing with customers to really pester me about the kiss…

"Where is your boyfriend anyway?" he asks, grinning.

I ignore the slight. "I don't know. I don't care. Butters said he wasn't coming back."

Kenny sighs loudly, "Why do you think that is?"

I blink. "Because he finally matured to the point where he didn't have to make fun of me to gratify himself."

He frowns at me. "Didn't you tell him you didn't want to see him anymore?"

"Yes but I always say that! What the hell made this time different?"

"_Don't even start, Cartman, don't even start!" I yell at him. Didn't he get it? "Stop prying into my life! I don't want anything to do with you! I don't want to see you, I hate serving you! No amount of money could make anyone want to be near you! I HATE YOU!"_

Kenny folds the menu back up and places it on the table. He looks at me with a serious face. "Don't you think Cartman could have been doing _exactly_ what you asked?"

I stop. "Why the hell would he do that?"

"Kyle, think about it. Not only did you yell at him and say you hated him, but you acted like your home life is worse than his and basically made his problems seem like nothing. He might not be particularly bright when it comes to feelings, and probably doesn't recognize this, but you hurt him, Kyle."

I only listened to about half of what Kenny said- I'm still stuck on the fact he knows about my mom and about Cartman and my argument. I hadn't even told Wendy that much about it. "Ho-how do you know all that?"

He sighs, "Remember all those years ago, when Cartman was dumb enough to drink my ashes thinking it was chocolate milk mix?"

I grimace. I remember that. Not one of Cartman's better moments.

"Because we were connected like that for a while, sometimes I still get flashes of memories and shit from him, usually when I'm sleeping," he pauses and looks at me, as if he's seeing if I believe him.

Considering all the times he's died, I'm not surprised he has some supernatural shit going on. I don't really know what to believe when it comes to Kenny. He continues, pushing the hair out of his eyes, "It gets really annoying. Especially since I don't want them. I knew you were working here about a month ago when Cartman first came. I recognized you right away- hell if I know if Cartman did."

This would explain how Kenny seems to know so much more about Cartman's actions than I do. "So… you saw me yelling at him? In a dream or something?"

He smirks, "Yeah I did. Great job acting like you lead the most horrible life ever. Don't get me wrong, Kyle, your mom is fucked up and all, but it's best to avoid the subject of 'parents' with Cartman. I thought you knew that."

"I did. But…" but he just provoked me. "It was stupid, I know, but-

"But that's why he's not coming back and avoiding you at school. Congrats, Kyle, now Cartman is out of your life forever. Exactly what you've wanted for years."

I remain silent and Kenny looks me over. Yeah. Years and year of hell from Cartman. No more Jew insults. No more blackmail, incurable diseases, imaginary ball sucking, manipulating, teasing, fighting… no more Cartman.

The thought of smiling crosses my mind, but it just feels… weird. Not right to smile. Like I'm forcing myself to do something that doesn't feel right. Why can't I smile? Cartman is gone! I should be singing and dancing and laughing! He won't be back- he'll leave me alone! I should be thrilled!

…But I'm not.

"He really is avoiding me… because I hurt his feelings?" I didn't think it was possible to hurt something that didn't exist.

"That's what I think," Kenny says, smirking at my obvious unhappiness. "He probably doesn't even know it yet."

I frown. This is getting confusing. Kenny stands up, "You're right, I don't have enough money to eat here anyway. I just came to tell you that. Oh and, can you not tell anyone about this stupid psychic mumbo jumbo I got going on with Cartman? I don't think anyone would believe it anyway."

I nod. "Sure dude. I still haven't forgiven you, by the way."

He smiles, "I know. Just think about what I said, okay?"

He turns his back on me and exits the restaurant, leaving me sitting alone staring after him.

/\/\/\

Angel Morte was boring that night. I caught myself listening for the familiar door opening and Cartman standing there, the smug look on his face, but it never came. I decided it was better to lock myself in Mr. Yamamoto's office and copy papers.

/\/\/\

My mom yelled after me when I left the house the next morning for my shift. Something about 'keeping my phone with me,' I wasn't really paying attention. My mind is elsewhere. I board the bus and sit down, looking around at the other passengers.

No one I knew. Big surprise.

/\/\/\

Time is skipping even in my head. I go to wipe off a table and an hour later I've realized I've been wiping the same spot the entire time. Mr. Yamamoto asked if I was okay.

Of course I'm okay. I mean, I must just be tired or something, there's no reason for me to feel upset…

Even if there's no reason, I still feel off. I haven't felt like this since I started working at Angel Morte. I don't know what's wrong.

Fucking Cartman- it's his fault everything got confusing.

/\/\/\

It feels like last year again. Nothing. Empty. There are barely any customers today, and most of the girls are taking today off. Even Wendy. She probably mentioned something about it yesterday, but I really haven't been paying attention.

/\/\/\

"Kylie, are you going to lock up?" Thomas says as he removes his apron, twitching slightly. He's watching me worriedly. I realize I've been standing in the same spot for twenty minutes, staring at a booth. Everyone left. Only Thomas and I are here. Sunday came and went before I knew it.

"Yeah, sure…" I say, trailing off. It's Sunday, but it's nine o'clock so we close early.

He walks up to me and puts his hand on my shoulder. "Are you okay? You've looked sick all day. Have you been sleeping?"

"Yeah… don't worry, I'm fine," no I'm not. "I'm just… sad for no good reason."  
He narrows his eyes. "Did something happen with Cartman?"  
That name. That stupid fucking name. I feel chills travel up my spine as my face distorts in anger. "Why does everyone have to bring up that asshole?" I swat Thomas' hand off my shoulder.

He frowns, and curses under his breath, "I didn't mean anything by it. I just… haven't seen him here in a while." He looks down, "What happened to your hands?"

I look down at them. Right. The cuts. I didn't bandage them this morning. There are a bunch of diagonal superficial cuts on the back of both my hands- all scabbed over. They look worse than they feel. "I got into a fight," I answer plainly. There was no reason to lie to Thomas.

He narrows his eyes, "With Cartman?"

I look down at the floor. "Yeah. I should be used to it by now, but sometimes our fights get-

"There have been more than one?" he asks, surprised. I meet his eyes. He looks really worried.

"Oh- no! No, don't worry, it's not like that, we've just never got along and-

"And he did this to you? Why the hell do you care about him then?"

I frown. "Who said I cared about him?"

"You obviously miss him! That's why you've looked so sad all day. He's not here. I'm not dumb, Kylie, I can put two and two together."

I stop. Was it really because Cartman wasn't here that I've felt sad?

Was it actually because I hadn't spoken to him days? Or was it just because I hurt him and didn't quite realize it at the time?  
That look he gave me…

"Thomas," I begin, looking at him seriously. "I know you're worried about me, and thank you, but I promise, this is nothing to worry about. I just did something stupid. I deserved it." I smile grimly at him. He looks me over once and sighs.

"…Alright, Kylie, whatever you say. I've really had it out for him for a while though, so just say the word and I'll beat some sense into him, okay?" he grins sheepishly, I can't help but smile.

"I'll see you, okay Thomas? I should be fine." I attempt to smile and wave goodbye. He grins slightly, turning around and exiting, leaving me alone in the darkened restaurant, putting the last of the chairs on the tables before leaving.

I'm alone again.

Did it always feel this lonely at night when I'd locked up before?

I guess not because I usually had someone waiting for me.

I sigh and look at the floor. What's wrong with me?

I walk into the backroom, ready to change inside instead of outside next to the dumpsters (like I normally do when there are girls there). I quickly pull off my uniform and bows, and open the metal door to my locker. There, behind my backpack, in all its stupid glory, was Cartman's red jacket. I sigh and frown. I meant to give it back to him here… but if he's not going to show up here again, like Kenny and Butters say, then I should just take it to school… maybe Butters can deliver it.

I unzip my backpack, and pull on my jeans and t-shirt. After zipping up my jacket and stuffing all my hair into my hat, I double-check all the restaurant locks and turn off all the lights, slowly closing the back door behind me.

I walk outside the restaurant and look around. Snow is beginning to fall- there's already a thick layer on the ground. The snow crunches under my boots and I hold Cartman's jacket tightly in my arms. It is really quiet. Peaceful, almost. I don't feel like waiting half an hour for the next bus, so I continue to walk down the deserted street, past the office building Cartman threw me against the other day.

I keep walking through the familiar streets. Soon I reach the snowy landscape with no buildings or houses, just some dim street lamps and a stretch of empty road. Ironically, last week I was walking this same path with Cartman, asking him about his mom. If I had noticed then how his mom had been away, I might not have been so up my own ass… and not attacked Cartman. I'm so whiny sometimes. Not everything is bad in my life.

If anyone has reason to complain, it's him. I didn't… really have a right to say the things I did. I grip at his red jacket and soon, I'm already in town again, walking past the school.

There's a feeling in the pit of my stomach that I've had since Cartman looked at me like that. Like he was hurt. I recognize that feeling… too well. I know how it feels to not feel like your parents care about you. And… causing that in someone else, especially in my current position, was wrong.

I frown. I just feel really… _ashamed_.

I don't even remember what happened yesterday, or most of today at work. It's a big white blur in my head… it's like it was last year. When all I did was study. I didn't have anything to pull me out of that depression. That… sheer loneliness.

I watch the snow fall and pretty soon, I pass the high school. All this…feels empty. Why?

I mean. It's just Cartman. I shouldn't be feeling like this. I notice I'm still holding tightly onto his jacket, and release my grip slightly.

I shouldn't be feeling lonely! I mean- I haven't felt like this since I started working at Angel Morte. But… without him there, it's… different. The girls are still there, and Wendy is there, but…

This doesn't make any sense. Before I know it, I see my house in the distance. Had it actually been half an hour already? I walk up to my house and the lights are off. It has to be past ten o'clock.

I walk up to my front yard (covered in a fresh layer of snow) and in the corner of my eye, I see a shadowy figure hiding out next to my house. I stop walking and direct my attention fully to the strange shadow. It moves again.

"Hello?" I call out to the darkness. Luckily, my mom left the front light on, so there was a little light, but I still couldn't see what it was. It looked like a person. "Is someone there?"

I hear a small whimper and the before I know it, the person is off running, starting down the street. A burglar? "Hey!" I yell and drop Cartman's jacket, taking off after the person.

"Woah!" they yell as they slip on an icy patch on the sidewalk, falling face first into the snow. I catch up to them with ease and look down. It was Butters.

"Butters?" I ask loudly, surprised. My breathing is slightly ragged from the sprint. He sticks his head up and looks at me pathetically.

"Ky-Kyle!" he says, pulling himself off the ground and pushing his fingers together in a nervous gesture. "Wh-what are you doing here?"  
I blink. "You were just standing outside of my house."

He looks ashamed and casts his eyes away from me, "…yeah." I sigh. He never was good at lying.

"Would you care to tell me why the hell you were standing outside of my house at ten at night?"

He meets my gaze with his light blue eyes and begins to whimper, "Pl-please don't tell Eric, Kyle, I promised I wouldn't get caught and-

"Cartman? What does he have to do with you being here?"

He doesn't answer. A minute of silence goes by as more snow falls around us.

I sigh. "Alright, don't answer me Butters. I'm going to sleep. Please don't stand outside of my house at strange hours of the night ever again. Go home," I turn my back on him, walk to my house, unlock the front door and enter my house. I close the door behind me and put my back against it.

Cartman sent Butters? To watch me? To spy on me? Why?

/\/\/\

The snow from the night before left a nice new layer of white all over South Park. I'm now spending a good amount of my Monday morning trying to ruin the perfect white streets by stomping up and down the road outside of Cartman's house, leaving my footprints everywhere.

What am I doing here? There are thirty minutes before school starts. I couldn't sleep (big surprise) so I got up around six and got ready. I've been pacing back and forth in front of his house, trying to think of what to say. I know unless I speak to him directly, he'll just keep on avoiding me.

I know I always say that I want Cartman gone… and I know I told him I hated him. All that may be true, but, I feel… guilty for it.

This loneliness… I wasn't used to it. Ever since he started visiting me at Angel Morte, even when I was Kylie, at least there was someone there. I had Wendy and Thomas and the girls, yes, but when the lights went off and we locked the doors, who was left?

As if reading my thoughts, at that exact moment, Cartman pushed open the front door and locked eyes with me. He seems just as surprised to see me as I am him.

Even if I hate to admit it, if it wasn't for this asshole, I might still feel as lonely as I did.

He narrows his eyes and shuts the door behind him. "What the hell do you want, faggot?"

I grit my teeth and ignore the insult. He walks down the sidewalk toward me. I start, "I see your mom's not here-  
"If you're trying to make my morning worse, you're doing a damn good job," he says shortly. He obviously wasn't in the mood to be cordial.

I grimace. Even if my mom was an overbearing bitch, she was there when I got home. I wasn't completely alone every second of the day that wasn't filled up with school. Cartman gives me one last angry look then spins around and begins to walk down the street.

When I stopped hanging out with Stan, Cartman did too. Had he been alone the entire time I was?

Does that mean neither one of us was really alone?

"I…" I bite my lip. "I want you to come back to Angel Morte."

Pause. He stops walking and turns to look at me, bewildered. "_Why_?"

I have no idea why. But… "Just because." He eyes me suspiciously, like he can't believe what I'm saying. Hell, I can't even believe what I'm saying. I just… "I want you there."

He walks back toward me and looks down at me, staying quiet as if he wants me to elaborate. I have nothing to add, that's really all I can say.

"You sneaky Jew," he says quietly. I blink. "You think I'm going to fall for that? You're planning something, you money-grubbing snake in the grass." He turns around and begins to walk off again. Annoyed, I run after him and grab his jacket, stopping him.

"No! Idiot, that's not it!" I yell. He glances down at me angrily.

"Well then what is it?" he yells back. "Obviously if I make your life so hard, you won't want me to come back, so what the fuck do you want me back for? I was doing you a fucking favor for not being there- you should be thanking me, Jew!"

"_I didn't want you to leave!_" I yell back at him. Why the fuck was he so frustrating? Why doesn't he understand?

He turns his back on me. I shout at him. "Why did you send Butters to spy on me?"

Pause. "I got bored," he replies without a second thought. He still isn't facing me.

I growl. "You stopped showing up at Angel Morte and stopped speaking to me at school, but you still send people to spy on me! Do you realize how fucked up that is?"

"You don't know my reasons behind what I do, Jew," he says sternly, still not looking at me. He begins to walk down the street.

Fuck. This wasn't supposed to happen. I begin to walk after him again, and call out, "I'm sorry."

He stops and looks over at me, shock covering his face. "…What?"  
"I'm…" I have to push out the words. "_sorry_."

He blinks again, looking like he's sure he misheard me. I don't even know why I feel like I should apologize, when he's done much worse things to me and he didn't apologize. He didn't even feel bad.

He looks completely shocked. He walks over to me and looks down at me as if he's waiting for me to continue.

"It was wrong of me… to say the things I did, and I apologize." I feel like throwing up. He continues to look at me.

"You're serious?"

I nod, gripping my stomach and not looking at Cartman. Another awkward silence falls between us.

"Well, if you truly are sorry, then get on your hands and knees."

I stop. "…What?"

"Get on your hands and knees…. And beg me to come back," I meet his eyes. He's serious. "Tell me in the nicest way possible that you want me to come back to Angel Morte. After all, you did say you hated me and hated serving me, so why should I believe a half-assed apology?"  
I'm spluttering. "I-I can't believe you! I tell you the truth and you don't believe me-"

"Apologize, Jew." He smiles widely at me. He's clearly enjoying this.

"No," I answer defiantly.  
"Jew, you have to-

"No I don't!"

He smirks down at me. "If you are really sorry for what you said to me, then you will get down on your hands and knees and apologize. And _mean it_," he adds sadistically. I growl. I can't believe Cartman is going to ask me to do this.

I look around the street. It was only us. I look back up at Cartman and sigh. What the hell is wrong with me?

I begin to bend my right knee, like I'm going to get down, and he says quickly, "That's enough, Jew."

I pause and look up at him. What? Why did he make me stop so soon? He notices the confused look on my face and shrugs. "I don't need an apology from the likes of you." My mouth falls open and he laughs.

"Cartman, you're such an asshole!"

He slows his laughter and smiles at me. His eyes don't hold the same sadistic look they usually do. He looks… happy. "I was joking, dick-wad."

I am completely dumbstruck by this asshole.

"Come on, we have to get to school," he says, walking away from me and continuing to smile. I stand in the same place for a moment, then run up after him.

/\/\/\

We're in class again. Well. He's not avoiding me now. I stare at the back of his head, annoyed. I can't believe that asshole, trying to get me to beg for him to come back! It's not as if I needed him back there, but… I sigh and bury my head in my book. None of this made any sense.

I can't believe I kissed this idiot. I can't believe I wanted him back at Angel Morte. I can't believe I apologized. Why couldn't I just leave well enough alone? My stupid conscience. I should've just ignored it.

After all, when I was dying, he wouldn't even give me his kidney. Why should I feel bad if I act like his problems are nothing? Why the hell do I even care?

I stop myself. I care. I care? When did this happen? I care about Cartman? No, that's impossible. I mean- I would have felt bad if I caused anyone to avoid going somewhere just because they thought it was better for me!

Was Cartman really looking out for me, though? Was he actually not going back to Angel Morte because he thought it would be best for me? Was he doing something… selfless?

No. Not possible. This was Cartman. Eric fucking Theodore Cartman. In what universe would he do something because he was thinking of my wellbeing? Never. He probably just didn't feel like going and decided to guilt me…

I sigh again. Well, it doesn't matter anymore, because he'll be coming back now. I'm so fucking stupid sometimes.

Kenny's voice from Thursday rings through my head. _'God, you're really in denial. So tell me, how do you feel about Cartman, Kyle?'_  
I answered that I hated him. Which I do. I hate him so very much. But… is it possible to hate him yet feel guilty for the things I do to him? Couldn't that just mean I'm a good person?

'_If that's the case, why did you kiss him back?'_

I feel my internal temperature shoot way above the norm. I didn't kiss him back. I didn't. It was a… reaction. I didn't really have control. It just happened- that's entirely possible, right? Isn't it possible that when kissing someone the physical experience outweighs the mental and you stop using common sense?

"Take a picture, Jew, it will last longer," Cartman says from in front of me. Wait- the entire time I've been thinking, was I actually staring at him? My heart races and I realize he's barely a foot away from me.

"Fu-fuck off," I say, sinking further into my chair so as to get as far as humanely possible away from him. I look over at Kenny, who's smirking at me.

"I see you fixed your problem," he laughs.

"I hate you," I say to him.

"You could never hate anyone, Kyle," he replies. He turns back toward the board and taps his finger impatiently on the desk. I look back toward Cartman, who put his head down. He appears to be trying to nap in class.

There's no way I could care about Cartman. I don't want to hurt him, sure, but that doesn't mean I care about him. And there's definitely no way I actually missed him at Angel Morte. No way I cared that he wasn't there. He isn't what's making me feel less alone. And there's definitely no way that I purposely kissed him back. Kissing guys doesn't turn me on and I don't like Cartman.

Not even as a friend.

At all.

I close my eyes and listen to my internal heartbeat in an attempt to calm my mind down. It thrums loudly in my chest.

If that's the case, then why is my heart beating so fast?

/\/\/\

/\/\/\/\/

/\/\/\/\\\/

Author's Note: If anything, this chapter has been the most exhausting. Mostly because I'm packing alongside writing this. And because writing Kyle's mixed emotions really bores me… I can understand how he feels, I mean I wanted Cartman to be around just so Kyle would stop moping and do something interesting. :D

Anyway, there's an obscure Disney reference in this chapter! I don't know if anyone would get it unless they were as nerdy as me when it came to 90's Disney cartoons. But it made me smile.

That's about it for now. I have to go finish packing and cleaning now. Lucky for you guys that I've already written parts of the next… three chapters. And they are a lot more fun than this one.

Much Love, OR

PS: I guess I didn't make this clear in chapter ten, but the italisis I use in the beginning when Kyle is asleep, that event actually happened with his mom. I just used the sleep as a way to end the chapter before and begin the next one. It wasn't a dream, it was a memory, and Kyle could have just been remembering it while sleeping. His mom is actually like that, he didn't imagine it!


	12. Any Other World

Author: OnigiriReject

Summary: Kyle is spotted working his job as a waitress by none other than Cartman. Will Cartman keep his secret? And what's with that smile of his?

Pairings: KyCart with undertones of Stendy.

~South Park and all characters belong to Matt Stone and Trey Parker, I'm just borrowing them for a little fun. ~

Chapter Twelve: Any Other World

"You're working tomorrow?" Wendy asks as she flips another chair upside down and places it on the table. We're closing up Angel Morte for the day, and putting finishing touches on the walls for Valentine's day. Mercedes is swishing around a mop nearby and Porsche is wiping a window down.

"Yeah, we're getting paid double, aren't we?" I reply grimly.

Tomorrow is Valentine's Day. Not only that, but it's Angel Morte's annual Valentine's Day Extravaganza, which includes music, fun and excitement for the customers. Basically like a middle school dance. Customers can dance with the waitresses or whoever they want while dumb eighties songs play in the background and the disco ball is lowered in the middle of the room.

Considering I'm a boy cross-dressing as a girl to get money for college, this puts me in sore spot. I would prefer not to dance. With anyone. I hate to admit it, but I don't have much rhythm. So having to dance with anyone is kind of hard, let alone letting some random boy _touch_ me. Part of the reason I even put up with this job is the boys can't touch me, just look.

Besides, if they were allowed to touch me, they would have figured out long ago that I have a Y chromosome. I can basically get out of dancing with anyone… as long as they don't ask me. Stupid Valentine's Day event.

"You don't seem to be looking forward to it," Wendy frowns at me, breaking me out of my reprieve.

"Yeah I'm really not," I say, sighing loudly. "Dancing with guys isn't exactly how I want to spend my Tuesday night. Or any night for that matter."  
"Why? You don't like dancing, Kylie?" Porsche was apparently eavesdropping. I frown.

"I hate dancing," I reply coldly. She smiles at me.

"But what if Eric wanted to dance with you? Would you do it then?"

It feels like my stomach dropped to the floor. Dancing with Cartman? My face heats up. "I would _not_!"

"But, Kylie, he's your boyfriend isn't he-

"NO he's NOT! Everyone just assumed but no! I am not going out with _Eric_," I spit out his name like it's venomous, "And I am not interested in him! We kissed once, that's it!"

Porsche can't quite hide the happy expression on her face, thanks to what I just said. "So, you don't like him?"  
"NO!" I practically yell.

"Then… I can have him?" her lips curl back, revealing almost all of her white teeth. She looks like a very happy cat.

I stop, not realizing that's what she eventually trying to get an answer to. She still wants Cartman? Why? He'd been basically rude to her the entire time she'd pursued him. I frown.

"Why do you like him?" I ask. Half of it, I'm really just scorning her awful taste, but the other half, I'm genuinely curious as to why she likes Cartman. She doesn't even know him, she just sees him randomly at Angel Morte, (which he goes to just to see me, might I add). She doesn't know about his family or what he's like at school or anything… so why does she like him?  
She tilts her head to the side, "Well, he's really cute. I mean, he's pretty muscular, and I like it when guys want to protect me. I see how he protects you when your customers get too close- that's a great quality in a boyfriend!"

I feel my face turning red so I try to turn away from the other girls and busy myself with wiping off another table. I know… Cartman, in a weird way, protects me. That's partially why I wanted him back here… Fuck. I don't even remember why I felt so bad that I apologized in the first place.

"Is he coming tomorrow?" Porsche asks, walking in front of me and smiling, her blue eyes becoming very large. "Eric, I mean."  
"I don't know," I reply curtly. This girl could get really annoying. Cartman obviously didn't like her, and I told her to back off last time, why was she being so goddamn persistent? She's still smiling at me.

"Anyway, I won't be coming to the dance tomorrow," Wendy says from behind me. I look over my shoulder at her, surprised. "Stan said not to make any plans." She seems to be trying not to smile, but like she can't help it. "I don't know what he's planning though…"

I hide my smile. I am happy for Wendy, with all the work she's been putting in at Angel Morte, she deserves a break. And Stan was really putting a lot of work into Valentine's Day for her… so I'm happy for the two of them.

I am slightly sad that she won't be here tomorrow. How am I going to get through this alone?

/\/\/\

"Are you going to the dance tonight?" Kenny asks me as I sit next to him in class the next day. I frown and glance over at him, suspicious.

"How did you know about that?"  
He smiles and holds out one of the flyers the girls were passing out in front of the restaurant. "If you really didn't want people to come, you should have thrown out the flyers."  
I try to snatch it from his fingertips. Stan is watching us with interest. It was math class- Mr. Garrison left the room to go grab another cup of coffee, leaving us with some math problems on the board. Of course, the only two people doing the problems are Wendy and I, and even then we both are a little sidetracked at the moment.

Wendy is still eyeing a very large bouquet of red roses Stan put on her desk before she came to class, and hasn't said a word to her all day- I don't know exactly what he's planning except he's taking her to his house tonight for a 'romantic' dinner. They both seem pretty content today, especially Wendy who keeps turning around and looking at Stan, trying to suppress happy giggles.

While as Kenny distracted me with his talk of the dance. Which I was not looking forward to. At all.

Mr. Yamamoto is encouraging the girls to dance with the customers… yeah we get paid a little extra, but I won't dance with anyone. It's not grinding or anything bad, but I would never dance with the old greasy men who are sure to show up. Or drunk frat boys. Either way I'd hate it.

I glare at Kenny who's still smiling at me. "Yes, I have to be there," I say under my breath, "But I don't want to be. I'm not dancing… with _anyone_." I shoot Cartman a quick look, in case he's getting any ideas from listening to us. He's staring absentmindedly into his math notebook, doodling circles. He seems completely uninterested.

"Come on Kyle, it would be _fun_," Kenny's smile widens. I frown.

"No it would not. I'm only there because it's my job, otherwise I would leave in a heartbeat."

"What are you guys talking about?" Stan asks, just tuning into our conversation. Kenny and I both shake our heads.

"Nothing important," Kenny says nonchalantly, turning back to his math notebook and frowning. "Kyle is just no fun."  
"Fuck off, Kenny."  
At that, Cartman stifles a loud snicker. I look over at him and he's looking at me, smiling. "God, Kahl, it's not such a big deal, just get that sand out of your vagin-

"You can go fuck off, too," I say, my face still angry. I don't feel like dealing with either of them right now. I attempt to busy myself with my math homework. I didn't want to think about the dance until I was actually there, decked out in my Valentine's day attire, and I _had_ to think about it. Now, I wanted to enjoy just being Kyle Broflovski, not Kylie.

/\/\/\

My job is simple from now until eight o'clock. I stand here, and serve chocolate on a little platter to anyone that walks into the restaurant. It's seven o'clock and I'm debating suicide.

A bunch of frat boys walk in and nudge each other once they see me grimacing next to the entrance with a tray full of fudge squares with toothpicks sticking out of them. They all are grinning at me and I can feel their eyes on me. It takes all my self-control to stop myself from vomiting.

"Chocolate?" I offer in a high-pitched voice, holding up the tray to them. One by one they walk over and take squares from my tray and eat them, walking further into the deep pit of pink that was the rest of the restaurant. It had been getting progressively worse over the course of the week in terms of decorations and costumes. The girls have been separated into the Cupids and the Queens of Hearts, and the bouncers wore pink tuxes and the chefs wore lacy red aprons.

Curtains were hung around the windows with little red hearts on them, and we temporarily tacked up pink sheets to cover the walls. On each table there was a fresh red table cloths, covered in doilies for the plates and cup holders. Basically, it looked like Martha Stewart vomited pink and hearts all over the room. I can't wait for this stupid holiday to be over.

Other waitresses were flitting between the tables, and in the middle of the room, the tables had been moved and replaced with a large stereo system and a disco ball, hung from the ceiling. Almost all the tables are filled with customers, varying from businessmen, college guys, and old men.

I sigh and close my eyes. Soon I hear the bell on the front door ringing again as someone opened the door.

"Welcome," I say tiredly, still not opening my eyes. "Chocolate-

I freeze and narrow my eyes once I see that it is Kenny standing in front of me, smirking with his arms crossed. "What are you doing here?" I ask him angrily feeling myself blush. I told him not to fucking come.

"To see you in your cute little outfit," he replies in a sing-song voice. He reaches forward and tugs at my crown, which was pinned into my hair with the help of Acura's bobby pins.

"Watch it, Kenny," I growl at him, frowning unhappily. I hoped Mr. Yamamoto was busy with something so he wouldn't see me being rude to a customer.

"But, Kyle, I only came to be near you," he smiles again, tucking some of my red hair behind my ear in what was supposed to be an endearing gesture. I fume angrily and try to swat his hand away. He catches my hand and interlocks his fingers with mine.

"Kyle, you should really watch what you do, because you never know who could be watching," he says quietly, leaning into my ear.

I try to wrench my hand away from his and snap at him, "What are you talking abou-

"You two seem cozy," Cartman's voice says from the open door. Kenny lets go of my hand, swiveling around and facing Cartman, smiling. My eyes widen once I realize it was Cartman we were facing, and I can practically breathe a sigh of relief.

Wait- relief? Was I happy to see Cartman? Why? Because Kenny might back off a little and there was no way a guy could molest me tonight if he was here? Probably. I'll just leave it at that.

"What are you both doing here, really?" I ask tiredly. I have to admit, I'm not exactly surprised this would happen to me. Cartman half grins and shoves his hands in his pockets, looking at me.

"To get some food, what's it look like?" he replies smugly. I frown and feel my face heat up. This was the first time he'd been at Angel Morte since our fight last Thursday… so I'd like to believe it was because of what I said to him. The reality was he actually did show up to eat. I don't think his mom is home yet, and I doubt he'd cook for himself often…

"So are you going to seat us?" Kenny says, breaking my train of though. Shit, I was just staring at Cartman the entire time I was thinking. He's looking at me funny.

"Um, this way," I say quickly, turning around and walking down one of the aisles, weaving in and out of the other waitresses. We come to a booth right next to the speakers and motion for Kenny and Cartman to sit. I murmur something about getting menus and walk off with the plate of chocolate.

When I return with the menus, Cartman looks less than happy while Kenny is laughing at him.

"You're such a dumbass, Cartman," he says, shaking his head, letting some blonde hair fall into his face.

"Shu-shut up, Kenny," he snaps back, his cheeks red. I almost want to ask what they were talking about, but I know they won't answer me.

"Here you two," I glower at them. I would be lying if I said I was thrilled to see them… thought, I was relieved to see Cartman. I guess I'm just happy there's someone to keep the guys away from me tonight- another reason not to dance with anyone.

Cartman looks up at me and meets my eyes. A smile breaks across his face as he snickers, "Nice crown, fag."

I roll my eyes and smack him in the head with the menu. "Shut up, fat-ass."

"No- really Kahl, it suits you. Such a dainty princess."

"At least I never dressed up as Britney Spears." I can't help but smile at my comeback- Cartman's cheeks turn bright red.

"That was one time! At least I don't dress up like a girl on a daily basis," he reaches forward and tugs on my skirt, lace and all. He's looking me in the eyes. "If I didn't know better Kahl, I'd think you enjoyed all the attention the guys are giving you-

"And if I didn't know better," I glare at him and try to move my skirt out of his hands. He looks like he's really enjoying this- his brown eyes and alit with malicious glee, "I would think you really enjoyed coming here because you like my company."

"You two seem to be getting along," Kenny says from next to us, causing both of us to turn. I have to admit, I practically forgot he was there.

"We are not!" we both yell at him in sync.

I practically stutter, "He's just always here, Kenny, it's not like we're friends or-

"ERIC!" Someone yells from behind me. I'm suddenly shoved into the table as Porsche pops up on my right, smiling down at Cartman and Kenny. I steady myself on the table (so as not to lose my balance yet again) and frown at her.

"How are you doing, Eric? Here for any special reason today?" She blinks many times and squishes her boobs together with her arms. It's almost sickening to watch. I glance over at Cartman and Kenny. Kenny is smirking, pleasantly surprised at the arrival of boobs, and Cartman is frowning, looking severely annoyed.

"No." he answers shortly. I can sense his boiling anger. Kenny glances over Porsche's shoulder and his eyes light up.

"Hey, I'll see you guys later," he stands up and scoots out of the booth, "And Cartman…" he glances at Cartman, a serious look on his face. "Think about what I said."

With that, he walks past Porsche quickly, over to Mercedes. She's blushing brightly. Just then, the lights dim and soft music begins to play.

"Oh! I love this song- come dance with me Eric?" Porsche asks loudly, holding out her hand. Cartman still frowns, but glances over at me for a moment. I just stare back- what did he want me to do? There was nothing I could do… I search his brown eyes for an answer to the question I couldn't ask. Finally, after a moment of silence, he breaks his gaze away from me and looks at Porsche.

"…fine," he huffs, standing up and turning away from me. What was with that pause? Porsche smiles widely again and quickly snakes her arms around Cartman's, leading him to the dance floor where many other couples are congregating. My insides boil with irritation at Porsche. What did Kenny mean when he told Cartman to 'think about' what he said? I'm fucking being left out of something again, I know it.

The song 'Love is a Battlefield' begins to play and the disco ball begins to spin. I find myself staring after Cartman and look away quickly, getting more irritated by the second.

He showed up, yeah, but it's not like he's here for me… well, I shouldn't care. I don't care. He can fucking talk with and dance with anyone else he wants. I don't fucking care. I sit down at the recently evacuated table and stare into the dance floor. Porsche is a retard anyway for being attracted to such a dumbfuck.

I shoot mental bullets at her and frown as she wraps her arms around Cartman's middle and looks into his face. His back is facing toward me, so I can't see his reaction. Another couple, Acura and some old Asian guy, spin in front of them and block my view. I sigh and look away, irritation still burning my insides.

Fucking stupid cunt. Idiotic prostitute. Fucking Cartman. I hope he gets Chlamydia from that slut.

Why the hell do I care that he's dancing with her? I shouldn't care. Not one bit. It's not caring that I feel right now. It's annoyance. Anger. Frustration.

I don't care about Cartman. I just… feel weird when he's not here. I guess… maybe I got used to the fact he came here to see me. He was always here for a while, and he's always been around. Like, when Stan and Wendy got back together a few years ago after being broken up for a month, I felt weird because Stan wasn't with me all the time anymore.

I'm not saying my relationship with Stan and my relationship with Cartman are the same at all. Stan is my friend… but I just kinda got used to him being there, and when he wasn't, I got frustrated, lonely, and annoyed at Wendy for taking him away. I may not be Cartman's biggest fan (huge understatement), but I got used to him being here.

So, now that he's not here with me, I get a little lonely. That's understandable. Right?  
Right? It explains why I asked him to come back.

It's pathetic that I'm lonely without Cartman, but it's true. When I started to rebuild my friendships with the friends I'd lost last year, he was here. He's been a constant in my life as long as I can remember, and without him around, I sort of lose track of what I should do. In a very strange way, he's important. In a very strange way.

I didn't kiss him back. I didn't enjoy it. I just wanted him around so I could have something in my life that wasn't completely fucked up… then again, he is fucked up. So I guess it doesn't really work. Maybe I'm just weird, but now I can admit… I need him here.

And Porsche, taking the one constant in my life away from me and trying to fuck it, is really, really annoying.

The song melds into another song and the lights dim slightly. Another slow song. "I don't want to miss a thing" by Aerosmith- how typical. The couples all pull themselves tighter around each other.

I sit alone at the stupid pink table and roll my eyes, thinking up a list of all the places I'd rather be than here, feeling stupid about my Cartman/loneliness revelation. I feel like someone's watching me- I look up. I was right; Thomas is staring at me from across the room. Our eyes lock and I suddenly feel very nervous. He's smiling as he begins to cross the dance floor and all the couples holding each other close and swaying in time with the music.

The look on his face worries me. He thinks I'm a girl. A girl he saves and speaks to regularly and smiles at…

A girl he's interested in.

I can literally feel my stomach drop out of my abdomen.

I suddenly get the urge to leave, and quickly sprint out of the restaurant before he notices. I push open the entrance door and a wave of coldness hits me, so much unlike the stuffiness in the restaurant from all the people sweating. The smell of cigarette smoke lingers in the air and I notice someone sitting on the curb, blowing out smoke and holding the cigarette. He glances toward me.

It was Cartman. Big surprise.

The music from the restaurant becomes quieter when the door swings closed behind me, but we can still hear it. I narrow my eyes at Cartman- I came out here to be alone.

"I didn't know you smoked," I say, wafting away the smoke with my hand. Cartman turns back toward the street nonchalantly and drops the half used butt onto the icy sidewalk.

"I don't," he says, stepping on the butt and twirling his foot on it. Asshole- I actually caught him smoking on the roof of the school the year before (I saw him from the window one day), but I didn't think he did it regularly. Only if he was stressed or something. It still smells like smoke. I sigh and realize it's better than the smell of a bunch of sweaty old men and lots of perfume.

"I thought you were inside," I say quietly as I continue to watch him. I thought I'd be the only one out here- how did he escape Porsche without her notice?  
"I got bored," he replies, turning around and staring toward the street. I smirk.

"You just wanted to get away from Porsche," I walk over to the curb and sit next to him. It wasn't too cold outside so I'd be okay out here for a bit. At least until Thomas gave up looking for me.

Cartman scoffs. "It's not my fault she got the idea you weren't interested in me."  
"I'm not interested in you," I answer bluntly. He scowls.

"Yes, but now that slut won't leave me alone. That was one good thing I got from kissing you- she left me alone for about a week, but now she thinks I'm free to date. Don't get me wrong, the girl has good taste," I snicker as he adds that. He frowns at me but continues, "But she's infested with STDs and God knows what else. And, I'm not turned on by idiotic sluts."  
"Right, you're turned on by cheesecake," I say before I can stop myself. I can almost hear the veins in Cartman's head popping.  
"FUCK YOU, JEW! I'M NOT FAT!" he yells loudly, his face red with anger and probably embarrassment. I'm not even fazed by this outburst.

"Chill, Cartman. You're 'not fat _anymore_' is what you should have said," I put my head in my hand and stare out at the streetlamp. A snowball hits the left side of my face and explodes on impact, causing me to curse and wipe off the remains. I glare at him, "What the fuck was that for?"  
"For you being a smart ass," he replies coolly, turning back toward the street and away from me. I glower at him angrily.

"And you wonder why I never would want to pretend I'm going out with you…" I trail off and face away from him.

"It would be easier if you pretended though…" he says quietly.

"Why?"  
"That Tourette's kid would leave you alone, for one. Porsche would leave me alone. People wouldn't be treating our one little kiss like it was such a big deal-

"You just want to be able to say you have a 'girlfriend', like at school. Stupid macho supremacy."

He pauses and looks at me, a serious look on his face. "You really are opposed to the idea?"

"What?" I ask. "Of pretending we're going out?"  
"Yeah."  
"Of course I am! Why the fuck would I be _for_ it?"

He looks away from me and stares out at the street. I can still smell that damn cigarette smoke. "How much would I have to pay you to be a little more convincing about us going out?"

"A lot." I answer plainly, knowing he's joking.

The snow is drifting lazily as we sit outside. My butt is getting cold from the icy ground. Irritation flits at my mind- he's really acting weird tonight. Did Porsche do something?

"If I pay you an extra hundred dollars in tip every time I come here, will you agree that you and I are boyfriend and 'girlfriend' in front of other people? Only when you're Kylie," he adds quickly.

I stop and look at him. He's smiling but his eyes look serious. "You want me… to pretend we're going out? Why?"

He smiles sadistically. I shiver, "For my own reasons."

I narrow my eyes, my stomach in knots. "What does me agreeing to this entail?"

"Just telling them we're going out. It would keep that slut away from me for once," I smile, he continues.

Would it really be that bad pretending he was my boyfriend? After all, if all I had to do was just agree that we were going out at the restaurant, it wouldn't be too bad. I would get extra money. I sigh. He really hadn't changed much if he just wanted to see me squirm awkwardly because he thought it was fun. "It might give Thomas the hint, too."

He stays quiet as I look over at him. He'd been watching my reaction while I thought it through. "You swear all I have to do is tell people we're a couple?"  
"Yes Kahl, that's all you'll have to do." He seems sincere. I know Cartman, though, and when he seems sincere, that usually means he's planning something. I narrow my eyes.

"I don't trust you."  
"I know you don't."  
"I know there's something else you're getting out of this."  
"There probably is."  
"…I just don't know what it is yet," I pause and realize he mentioned Thomas earlier. "Wait- how did you know about Thomas?"  
He rolls his eyes. "You've never seen the way he looks at you?"  
I feel my cheeks heat up as I look at Cartman. He glares at me.

"God, you're so stupid sometimes, Jew. He's been like that every time I've come- I'm sure it's no different than from when I leave."  
"Fuck," I say quietly. I look down at the snow and shiver- it was getting colder outside. Why was everything getting so complicated? I just wanted some fucking money to get away from my mom. That's understandable, right? That's a normal thing for a teenager to want. So why the fuck is everything backfiring like this? Cartman was the one who'd done horrible things in his life, not me, therefore he deserved all these problems…

"So do we have a deal?"

I glance back over at him. He's staring at me again, his brown eyes looking serious. "No we don't."  
"Come on, Kahl. How much would I have to give you every day to go along with it?"

I think for a moment. What price would Cartman say no to? "Three hundred extra, on top of waitress tip fees."  
"Deal."

"…what?"  
"We have a deal. Now you have to pretend we're going out when you're Kylie."  
"…You're going to be paying me that much for this?"  
"Yes."

"Why?"

He grins. "Because it's just so much fun…" he scoots toward me and looks me in the eyes, "to see you squirm, _Kahl_." He was too close. His face was in mine and I could smell the cigarettes on his breath. I wince and can feel myself becoming dizzy again. My heart is racing from his sadistic expression.

It's been quiet too long. I need to say something.

"Do you actually smoke?" is the only thing I can ask. He frowns and moves ever so slightly backward.

"Only when I'm really stressed…" he pauses and adds quietly, "Picked it up from my mom."

I think over his offer again. I really could use the money, and it's not like we're actually going out. And it would keep him from telling my secret even more than before. "Stop smoking and you got yourself a deal. I can't stand the smell."

He waits a moment before finally pulling out of my space completely and facing the street in front of us, which was slowly becoming covered in a new layer of snow. There was even a little bit of snowflakes in his hair. He seems pretty content with himself.

"I knew you'd be up for it, Kahl, you're so easy to manipulate."  
"Whatever, asshole," I practically spit at him, "I need the money."  
"All for a little bit of money- you might as well be a prostitute, Kahl."

I quickly grab a large hunk of the snow and pat it together, then throw it at his head. Direct hit. He doesn't even flinch. Instead, he looks over at me, slightly annoyed. I can't help but smile at the annoyed expression on his face. "Payback," I explain shortly.

His face softens slightly. "You seem awfully proud of yourself, _Kylie_." He smiles at me and I feel my insides heat up.

"Fu-fuck off," I stutter, looking back up toward the cloudy sky and the falling snowflakes. An awkward silence falls between us. I shiver from the cold.

"So… tomorrow it begins," Cartman says, not once looking at me. He, too, is looking at the sky.

"Yeah…" I murmur in agreement. What did I get myself into?

"You'll get your money," he begins quietly.

"And you'll get the people complimenting you," I finish.

And so we sit together on the curb staring up at the sky, and I wonder what the hell I just got myself into.

/\/\/\\\\

/\/\/\/\/\\\

/\\/\/\\/\/\

Author's Note:

I HAVE NOT DITCHED WRITING. I WILL CONTINUE TO UPDATE THIS STORY.

Don't worry. Recently, some bad things happened to my family so I've been dealing with a lot, plus I started college so I've barely had any time to write. I would never ditch my stories though, especially with the amount of die-hard fans this story has accumulated.

So, please, don't kill yourselves. I'm still alive and writing, but this is the first time I've been able to actually sit down and write for the last three weeks, mostly because of personal reasons. Do not tell me to update quicker, I'm fully aware it's been a while for me, but it's because of some bad family shit that I haven't found the energy to do this.

Apologies, but don't worry, I wouldn't leave Angel Morte unfinished.

Anywho, I've already written parts of the next chapter, so the wait shouldn't be as long… but I'm not promising anything. Too much stuff going on right now.

Again, much love to all my fans who wouldn't stop reading despite a wait. And much love to all those who have reviewed/done fan art. If there are any other fan art pieces out there, just message me and I'll add them to the list on my profile.

Back to the story: Don't you love denial? Suspense? Valentine's Day actually brings people together for once! Who thought it?

Much Love, OR


	13. Unintended Circumstances

Waiting on an Enemy

Author: OnigiriReject

Summary: Kyle is spotted working his job as a waitress by none other than Cartman. Will Cartman keep his secret? And what's with that smile of his?

Pairings: KyCart with undertones of Stendy.

~South Park and all characters belong to Matt Stone and Trey Parker, I'm just borrowing them for a little fun. ~

--

Chapter 13: Unintended Circumstances

--

I glance over at my analog alarm clock, at the blocky red numbers blaring through the darkness of my room. 4:02 am. Shit.

I have been trying to go to sleep for the last six hours, and failing miserably. Another night of lost sleep. Perfect. Truthfully, I've been thinking over Cartman and my deal. Pretending to date him for three hundred dollars a day? Sounds pretty sweet to me. It's not like we actually would be dating. And, no one will know it's me, except Kenny and Wendy, who both know I hate his guts and am only doing it for the money I so desperately need.

I sigh and roll over in my bed, facing the wall. Stupid fucking Cartman. I'm only having trouble sleeping because I want to know why he wants this. Yeah, to make himself look good, some girl actually likes him blah blah blah, but there has to be another reason. I frown and shut my eyes tightly.

It's his fucking fault I can't go to sleep anyway. Damnit.

I tighten my grip on my comforter. Recently though, Cartman hasn't been acting as… Cartman-ish. I've realized that I need Cartman around to keep my sanity. Because… he's always been around, and shit. I might despise his sense of humor and think he's the biggest retard in existence, but I need to face it- without him, I can't function. I get miserable and depressed.

And why the fuck is that? It's just Cartman. I should be happy when he's not around… but I'm not.

I close my eyes tightly and try to push these thoughts out of my head. And fucking Porsche… I still don't know why I got so angry. I just did.

There is one bright side to today, though. I pull the covers over my head as the sky lightens slightly outside.

It isn't Valentine's Day anymore.

--

And yet another day of school takes place. Me, sitting at my desk, trying to read, and everyone else playing their usual roles as if my entire world didn't get flipped over in one day.

The usual- Stan and Wendy being as happy as ever. Considering Valentine's Day was only yesterday, I'm not exactly surprised. I'm sure Wendy was completely ecstatic with what Stan's 'ingenuity' and 'originality' in his gift… which I thought of. Whatever, as long as their happy and not causing unnecessary drama. I sigh and roll my eyes. Kenny is (as usual) checking out the girls and laying on the compliments. Red bats her eyes back at him and giggles. The rest of the guys are standing around, chatting with each other about what they got for Valentine's Day (or lack thereof). Normal, teenage, stupid shit.

The only person acting out of the ordinary is Cartman, who is just staring at me smiling. I can feel his eyes on my back- the hairs on my neck stand up.

After a minute, I can't take it any longer. I frown and turn around in my chair, "What?" I snap. His smile grows wider.

"Just thinking about our agreement, Jew," he replies. I feel my body temperature cool down way below normal levels as I am reminded of my job.

"You better not try anything weird later, Cartman," I warn him, narrowing my eyes.

"What could I possibly do, Kahl?" he purrs back with a sickeningly sweet tone. "After all, we have an agreement that for three hundred dollars you will pretend to be my girlfriend when we're together, and you're Kylie."  
"I still don't know what you get out of this Cartman…" I start, opening my copy of the Invisible Man and tearing my eyes way from him. "But I will find out."

He narrows his eyes but continues to smile, "Keep telling yourself that, Jew."

I clench my book tightly and growl. Despite the moments that really made me rethink his character… he was Cartman. No matter how many 'better' moments Cartman and I have shared since I began working at Angel Morte, he was still the same bigoted asshole he would always be. I would just have to learn this.

I feel something tugging on the back of my hat, so I shut my book, grab both flaps of my hat and yank it down, while turning around to glare at the perpetrator. "_What?_" I ask in the most annoyed voice I can muster. Cartman is smiling at me- his hand still hovering in the air from pulling on my hat.

"I was just interested in knowing how you were going to tell everyone."

I continue to glare at the smug expression on his face. "Tell everyone what?"

He rolls his eyes overdramatically. "That we're dating."

My cheeks tinge red as I look at him, aghast he would say that so loudly and in the present company. "We are not dating," I whisper at him earnestly, still holding onto my hat, "it's pretend for both our sake. And I don't know, just call you my boyfriend or something-

"Tsk tsk Kahl," Cartman says, shaking his head in a degrading fashion. "If you expect anyone to believe it, you have to be a bit more earnest about it."

I glower at him as he continues, "How about you say that you finally proclaimed your undying affection for me on Valentine's Day, outside of the restaurant? And I, being unwilling, yet sympathetic toward the poor girl that you are, agreed to it. You know- remind everyone what a wonderful person I am."

I glower at him, my cheeks turning redder every second. He can't be serious.

"And if anyone thinks it's suspicious you haven't mentioned it until now, just say something like 'oh I was just too embarrassed- I actually have been completely in love with his sexiness the entire time, and I was just ever so happy he said yes after I wrote him a love letter-

At this point, I am not only beat red, but I grab my hardcover copy of the Invisible Man from my desk and make a point of hitting Cartman on the top of his head with it.

"OW!" he yelps, wincing from the sudden impact and trying to grab the book from my hands. I'm too quick and pull it back in my hands, and I'm sitting down in front of him again. He glares at me angrily, so I turn my back to him again and face the blackboard.

"Like I would ever say anything like that," I say, still completely red from a mixture of embarrassment and anger. Even if I didn't mean it, saying that sort of thing about Cartman was too much. Hell, saying it about _anyone_ would be too much, let alone about someone I supposedly detest.

"Well, being the stingy Jew that you are, you are going to do this, whether you _like_ it or _not_, Kahl," Cartman is beginning to sound irritated with me. I don't even turn around to look at him as he says this.

I glower angrily in my chair as the bell (signifying the beginning of class) rings through the school and various students begin to take their seats around us, completely oblivious to the mental game of chess going on between Cartman and I.

"You're going to do this either way, Jew, accept it."  
"Just because I need the money, asshole."

"Keep telling yourself that."

I roll my eyes and turn to face him. "What other reason would I agree to do something as ridiculous as pretending to date you while I parade around in a waitress dress?"

"Because you think I'm sexy."

"Fuck you."

"Never in a million years, Kahl."

"You two seem to be getting along," Kenny says amusedly from my left, his head in his hands as he glances at us, smiling.

"WE ARE NOT!" I say more loudly than I intended, causing the whole classroom to turn around and look at me. Mr. Garrison glares down the aisle at my desk.

"Kyle Broflovski," he begins in what sounds like a forced calm tone, "This is the last time you will interrupt my class. One more time and I'm sending you to the Principal's office!"

I slump in my chair. "Yes Mr. Garrison." Slowly, the rest of the class turns toward Mr. Garrison to begin today's lecture. I can't even see Cartman's face, but I know instinctively he's grinning like the Cheshire cat right now.

--

The rest of the day flew by as usual. After apologizing profusely to Mr. Garrison, I ran to the bus stop and got to Angel Morte in record time. Luckily, Wendy would be working today, so it would be a good way for me to catch her alone and warn her about what Cartman was doing.

As I walk into the backroom to put my bag into my locker, I bump into Wendy chatting with Mercedes. They both turn and greet me as I enter. I wave back, slightly distracted. Just as I'm trying to think of a way to get Wendy alone to speak with her, Mercedes waves goodbye to us and exits the room through the doorway I just entered.

I sigh in relief and turn to Wendy. "Happy belated Valentine's Day," I say glumly, trying to smile. She catches the lack of enthusiasm in my tone and frowns.

"I take it that it wasn't too great here," she says knowingly. I walk over to my locker and open the door. Wendy continues speaking behind me. "I just heard from Mercedes that Porsche still has a thing for Cartman…"

My stomach clenches up as I pause putting my bag in the locker. Wendy seems to notice. "Is it getting in the way of you making money?" she asks quietly.

I frown and turn toward her, "Sort of…" I pause, realizing she might not know about my home situation. "You know why I'm working here, right? Why I put up with all the weird boys and Cartman mistreating me?"

She meets my eyes with her brown ones for a moment, then says darkly, "I put two and two together. Stan told me some about your family when I asked, plus, you didn't speak for a while… so I figured you were going through a bad time. And since you began working here, you seem happier at school and even started talking with people again."

She smiles slightly and continues, "That was partially why in the beginning I decided not to tell Mr. Yamamoto that you were a boy. Morally, I was slightly put off by the idea, so I debated it for a while. But since you seemed so much happier… and even started talking with Stan again, who'd been worried about you since you were silent for so long, I decided I would keep your secret."  
I was silent for a moment. Wendy had even noticed? I knew she was smart, but…

"I figured Angel Morte was partially why you began speaking again. It gave you hope, right? That you could get out of your situation. I can relate to that," she smiles at me, "That's why I couldn't turn you in and I've tried to help you best I can. And we've even become friends because of it."

I can't help but smile because of this. It's true that without Wendy, this all would be a lot harder to get through. It's nice being able to share my secrets with someone who won't judge me.

"Truthfully," I begin, "I didn't notice I'd stopped speaking…"

I try to think back to that time. All I can remember was sitting at my desk late at night studying, and waking up with the light still on and the pencil in my hand. Vague memories of being in school, people moving quickly around me. Like I didn't exist, or I was just a decoration. Once I'd stopped speaking, I can't remember other people trying to talk with me. I'm sure they did, I just didn't notice. I think the guys asked me to play football a few times, but I can't remember answering them. And I did hang out with Stan a few times, for 'study sessions', but I think they ended with me yelling at him that he was distracting me. Eventually he stopped coming over.

The day I smashed my mom's stupid teapot, I looked in the mirror for the first time in forever. My eyes were so sunken in I almost looked like a skeleton. I couldn't remember eating in a few days. My throat was dry and my skin was so pale… I looked as if I was wasting away.

"I felt like there was no point in talking with people any more." I say finally. "All I did was study. I went to school to learn, I went home and studied. I didn't have any break time… In truth, I was scared of failing. Of what would happen if I didn't get a good score on the SATs. If I got one B. I was taught that failure was not an option."

Wendy looks at me and fidgets with her white dress. I continue, looking down at the glitter-covered floor. "One day, I just stopped speaking. I have trouble remembering others trying to talk with me or help me… it felt like life was moving around me. I felt like…"

"A ghost?" Wendy offers. I look up at her as she elaborates. "You looked like it. Stan was so worried about you…"

She bites her lip. "I'll admit, one day I was having a really bad day, and Stan was so out of it worrying about you, I ended up slapping him." I look up at her as she smiles sadly. "I yelled at him 'I am your girlfriend, and all you can think of lately is him!' I know now how selfish that was.

"He got really mad at me and yelled back that I didn't know anything about you and that he was your best friend, and that he would always care about you."

My heart panged as Wendy said that. When I was silent, I completely forgot about my friends, the people I grew up with. I became so into myself that I didn't notice the problems my friends were having… being silent like that truly was selfish.

"Anyway," Wendy continues, "After that Stan and I didn't talk for a while. I had to apologize for a while and convince him that I was truly sorry. I really was worried we were going to break up for good that time."

"But a few weeks after that, you started talking again. It was that day in class when Craig was talking about this restaurant for the first time. You were reading Crime and Punishment, I think, and I was sitting on Stan's lap. Stan was so happy after that… so in a way, I owe this restaurant, and you, for giving me back Stan."

I feel almost elated that I could help Wendy in that way. So that's why she's helping me and started being friendly to me?

"So," she continues, taking a step toward me and throwing her dainty arms around me. "Thank you, Kyle."

I stand dumbstruck for a moment as she continues hugging me, unsure of what to do. I am still a boy, despite wearing a dress and standing in the women's changing room. Eventually, I put my arms around her, smiling, and return the hug.

"I should be thanking you for putting up with me-" I begin. She releases the hug and slaps me playfully on the arm.

"Shut up!" She's smiling, her eyes slightly watery. I beam back at her. A moment later, I remember I had something to tell her.

"Oh…" I turn slightly red and look away.  
"What?" She asks, looking worried at my sudden mood swing.

"I have to pretend to be dating Cartman now, while we're here."

She pauses, looking at me confusedly. "I thought you got out of that earlier, when you kissed him in front of Kenny and everyone."  
"Yeah, but… he's paying me now. He's using me to get Porsche off his back…" she looks unconvinced. "I know it sounds retarded, but that's what he says."

"You know he has another reason for doing this, right?"

I nod at her. "Yeah… but I can't imagine what."  
Wendy looks like she's thinking hard, then opens the backroom door again to peer out at the tables. She then closes the door and faces me again, frowning.

"He's here…" Wendy says darkly, lowering her eyebrows. She looks concerned. "Are you sure you're okay with doing this?" she adds.

I nod and sigh. "I need the money, Wendy. And as long as he doesn't try anything weird…"

"It's Cartman," she says bluntly, tucking a lock of black hair behind her ear. "Of course he's going to try something weird."

She's right. I'm just worried exactly _what_ that is…

"We'll talk later… okay?" I ask her, not facing her. I don't need to see the worry on her face, when I'm already worried about it myself.

I leave the backroom and glance around the restaurant. People were bustling around me, customers and waitresses. I could hear Thomas cooking up things and clashing dishes in the kitchen. Life continued, but my eyes were fixated on Cartman, whose brown eyes were fixated on mine. I bit my lip, grabbed a menu from the holder on the wall next to the door, and walked over to him.

"Table for two?" I asked when I reached him. He nodded, smirking slightly, and I walked him over to his usual table. The other waitresses seemed to know where he would sit, because for some reason, even on busy days, they kept his table empty. Magically, the Valentine's decorations were all gone, except for a small remnant of glitter on the floor. Even our outfits were back to normal.

I motioned for him to sit down and handed him the menu. He kept it closed and placed it on the table. "Two large coffees, bring sugar and cream."

I nodded and left him sitting there for a minute while I retrieved his order. I walked back slowly and carefully, since I was carrying two coffees instead of the usual one. Cartman watched me walk back with interest, then halfway to his table, he stood up and walked over to me, taking one of the coffees off the tray and walking back to the table. I blinked for a moment as the tray got lighter, then continued to the table at a faster pace.

"What did you do that for?" I ask quietly once I reach the table and place the tray down, looking around to see if the other waitresses noticed him do that. It wasn't exactly a good thing if the customer didn't wait for his order and instead took it from the waitress.

"I didn't want you spilling it," he said bluntly, taking a gulp of his coffee and placing the cup back on the table. I blinked at him, confused. He was trying to help me?

I feel my cheeks turn slightly red, then sit down across from him, my hands in my lap. A silence falls between us as he looks at me interestedly. I finally ask, "Why did you order two coffees?"

He sighs and looks annoyed, "Dumb ass, you look like you were hit by a truck. Jews can drink coffee, can't they?"

I stare at him for a moment. "Is this coming out of my paycheck?" I can't help but feel like he's tricking me. He lifts up a hand and flicks my forehead with his index finger. I flinch and make a pained noise.

"Can't I pay for my _girlfriend_'s coffee?" he says loudly, smiling widely. Oh. That's what he's up to. Still, I can't say I'm not grateful. I take the cup he wasn't drinking from and pour in a little cream. I vaguely wonder how he knew I took my coffee with cream and sugar.

After I prepare my coffee and take a sip, I look at him seriously. He'd been watching me with interest the entire time I mixed my coffee. "Why do you want to do this?" I ask him, lowering my eyebrows.

"Because," he reaches across the table and lightly touches my cheek. I shiver. He smiles sadistically. "When I so much as touch you, you freak out. Not only is it amusing, but this way I can make you do whatever I want. All for a little bit of money- you really are just a prostitute, Kahl."

I sigh as he runs his index finger across my cheekbone. "You're not gay, are you?"  
That caught him off guard. He pauses tracing my face and stutters, "What the fuck gave you that idea?!"

I smile and continue, his finger lingers on my cheekbone, "Well, I have to admit, I've suspected it since you ran halfway across the country trying to get me to suck your balls…"

"That was because we had an agreement!" he argues childishly, quickly retreating his hand from my face like he touched hot coals. I can't help but laugh at how red he is. "I'm not gay! This is all just fun to me. Kahl- you have no idea how much fun it is to push your buttons. Besides," he shoots a sly smile at me, "_You're_ the one who turns red anytime I get near you."

I glower at him, my internal temperature shooting up, "I assure you, it's out of anger."

"Keep telling yourself that, fag." He grins at me.

"I'm not gay, Cartman. The only reason I'm going along with this is because I need the money."

He cocks his head and looks at me interestedly. He seems to be thinking over this, "Your mom hasn't gotten any better?"

I'm slightly surprised he asks, but I recover quickly. "Ever since Ike left, she's been the same… I just want to get away from her. Just because I'm not the same as Ike is no reason to treat me the way she does. I completely blocked out all memory of her last year because it got so bad…"

I meet his eyes again. He appears to have been listening.

"Well, at the rate you're working, plus what I give you, you'll definitely make enough." He thinks for a moment and continues, leaning back in the chair, "Plus there's always scholarships and financial aid. You'll make it."

I blink and stare at him, waiting for the insult that had yet to come. He looks back at me, with what appears no ill intention.

He's being serious?

"Oh Eric! I knew you'd come back to see me!" a high-pitched voice says from across the room, causing both Eric and I to jump and turn. We see Porsche quickly running up to our table through the waitresses and customers- Cartman narrows his eyes. "After our dance last night, you vanished!"

"That's because I was tired of humoring you, Porsche," he replies with a sarcastic edge.

"Well, I was wondering," she continues, still smiling as if she didn't even hear his reply, "If you'd be interested in seeing a movie this weekend. I'd really like that-

"Well, I'll have to run that by my _girlfriend_," Cartman motions at me, causing Porsche to look. It seems she just noticed I've been sitting here.

She looks angry, "_You_ said you two weren't going out."

I sigh and bite down the impulse to agree with her, "…No, I lied, we actually have been dating, I was just too embarrassed to admit that before… he's my boyfriend," I force out, trying not to gag at the thought.

Porsche looks completely dumbstruck and faces Cartman for confirmation at what I just said. Cartman shrugs and smiles, grabbing my hand quickly. I blink confusedly and resist the urge to pull back my hand and smack him. "That's right," he says in his adopted fake nice voice, "And I was willing to let her because I'm just _that_ committed to our relationship. And I really don't appreciate these unwanted advances on your part, because it's inappropriate. Now, if you could please stop imposing on _our_," he emphasizes the word and squeezes my now-numb hand. "bonding time, there are some important things Kylie and I would like to discuss."

Porsche looks like she was smacked. The whole restaurant seems to have frozen in place and is staring at us. Porsche slowly turns around and walks away, then breaks into a run halfway back to the backroom door, sobbing loudly. I roll my eyes, and try to yank my hand away from Cartman, but he's still holding it tightly.

He's looking me in the eyes with a determined expression. I wonder what he's up to, but am too afraid to ask. My heart is beating loudly and I can feel my face turning red again. I am too embarrassed right now.  
"I…" I begin quietly, trying to think of a way to get out of this situation. I can feel the eyes of all the waitresses on us, as if we are an engrossing soap opera. "I should go check on Porsche. She looked really upset-

I try to stand up, but Cartman stands up with me and pulls me into him. His right hand slips up my arm to grab hold of my wrist tightly. My face is dangerously close to the crook of his neck and he wraps his arms around me. I freeze for a moment as heat radiates through me, but regain consciousness and try to escape his grasp. I suddenly realize that I should have charged him more than three hundred dollars, this is too much.

I'm squirming as he pushes his body further into mine. "Cartman, please, this is so embarrassing, I can't do this after all -

"Don't act like you don't like it, Jew," he smiles, his face barely two inches away from mine. The other waitresses are still watching us. I can see Wendy out of the corner of my eye serving an elderly couple. Her mouth is wide open as if she's about to scream.

I turn my attention back to the asshole at hand. He was too strong for me to break away from his grip. "I know you're just doing this to embarrass me!"

"You bet I am… Now, Kahl, if I do this," he runs his index finger along my jaw line, starting from my ear. "Are you embarrassed?"  
He's grinning from ear to ear- I'm frozen from the sensation his touch gave me. Chills travel up and down my spine. There was no way I could lie and say I wasn't embarrassed to be fondled in public by my worst enemy- my red cheeks basically gave it away.

"Cartman… what is wrong with you?" I ask in the steadiest voice I can manage. He leaves his finger on my chin, barely below my lips.

"Nothing. I'm just super awesome. And I know what gets to you. Not only are you forced to dress like a girl for money, but now you have to do every little thing I say and there's no way I can get in trouble for it. I'm enjoying your complete helplessness, Kahl. Now, you obey only _me_."

I'm becoming dizzy from the close contact. My breath is becoming ragged. I'm trying to think of a way to get out of this…

"Mr. Eric…" I start, trying to sound like Kylie would. He freezes and his eyes shoot open as he looks at me in bewilderment. Did his name really surprise him that much? "You never mentioned this before when we agreed to it…"  
"Do you want the money?" he asks quietly.

I nod slightly, his hand still on my face.

His smile grows wider, "Then kiss me."  
I freeze, my insides stopping blood flow completely.

"…What?"

"You heard me."

I can hear my heart beat start up again. I look around the room quickly, then look Cartman in the eyes. "Kenny's not here. Why the _hell_ did you think that up on your own?"

"This is insurance that Porsche will definitely think we're dating now. It's just to completely convince her to never try anything again."

"Yes but she's not even in the room anymore, and this seems a little much-

He tightens his hold around my wrist and lowers his voice dangerously, "What's the big deal, Kahl? We've kissed before. In front of these same people. They think we're going out. You little prude, is one tiny peck that big a deal? After all, you're supposed to be my girlfriend."

I lower my voice and say in my normal angry tone, "You do realize how gay this makes you, right?"

"It doesn't make me gay. I'm only doing this to laugh at you. It's for humiliation."

"You don't think kissing another guy makes you gay?"

"Circumstantial."

"You're retarded. In my book, you're still gay for putting Butters' wiener in your mouth."  
"Again- circumstantial."  
I roll my eyes at his stupidity and try to wrench myself out of his grip… to no avail. "You're so gay, Cartman."

"And you're a sneaky covetous Jew, but you don't see me bringing it up right now."

I sigh. "That's not the point Cartman."  
"I don't care," he says dangerously. Chills travel down my spine again as he traces my lips with his index finger. Boundaries. Boundaries. He leans in, his lips parted slightly. My mind literally feels like it's going to explode. I can feel his breath on my face- everyone's looking. Is this really worth three hundred dollars?

"Cartman…" I begin, moving my face to the side, out of range, "maybe we shouldn't-

My words are cut off by Cartman tilting my head toward his and pressing his lips to mine, taking away my ability to protest. Brief moments feel like they have been stretched into eternity as his lips linger on mine. If anyone was really watching, they'd see his right hand enclosed around my left wrist, holding it so tightly that his knuckles were white and my hand was losing circulation. He didn't want me running away.

My eyes are closed and the only sensation I feel is Cartman's rough lips mouthing at mine. Warmth radiates through my entire body from the points we're touching. I'm vaguely reminded of our kiss from before, and grow slightly redder from the embarrassment. I purse my lips and don't make any motion to kiss him back or reciprocate the kiss. There are no thoughts in my head, only the severe dizziness taking over my senses. I put the hand he wasn't squeezing to death on his chest in an attempt to steady myself. He freezes from this touch and let's his lips stop moving on mine.

After a moment, our lips part and he pulls me into him quickly, letting go of my face ad my wrist. I'm surprised at this intimate gesture and let my arms hang limp. I feel as if there was a hole ripped in my chest- I feel almost used.

Moments like that… should be special. They shouldn't be used in such a disgusting manner that Cartman was doing. Only to embarrass me, no feelings behind it. I feel as if I was used for his enjoyment-- that feeling makes me sick.

I let my head rest against his chest and make no movement to get away just yet. I was too tired of everything. Too tired of letting him get away with whatever he wanted. Even with his arms around me and my heart beating in my ears, I felt used.

Slowly I realized it wasn't my racing heartbeat I could hear in my ears, but it was his. Cartman's. I look up and push myself away from him slightly, coming back down to earth and realizing that we were indeed still in Angel Morte, even though it felt like we were worlds away.

"Eric?" I ask, the word leaving my mouth before I could control it. Pretending to be Kylie for so long has rubbed off on my word choice. He gruffly let's go of me and pulls out some money from his back pocket. He hands it to me and keeps his face to the ground in order to hide his expression.

"Here," he says quickly, handing the money to me. I take it numbly and he mumbles, "Fucking Kenny," as he turns his back to me. "I'll see you later, Jew." He adds as he practically runs out of the restaurant.

I stare after him for another second and look down at the money he handed me. Four hundred dollar bills. Four hundred. More than we agreed on.

I feel my face contort in anger as I stomp back to the backroom quickly, so as not the hear the stupid giggles from the other waitresses or see their ecstatic expressions. As soon as the door swings closed behind me, I crumple up the first hundred dollar bill and throw it about the room.

He used me. I crumple up the second dollar bill and throw it.

He used me. He's just laughing at my reactions. He thinks this is amusing. I smash the third one under my foot and kick it to the side.

He thinks it's funny to toy with me like this. Taking something as special as kissing and ruining it. I'll never get free of this bastard.

That's what he was doing to begin with. Permanently ruining kissing for me so I'll never be happy. That son of a bitch. I don't fucking want his dirty money. I stare at the fourth one and just drop in on the ground, too tired to even try to deface it.

That asshole. That greedy fucking stupid anti-Semitic…

I slump on the ground and put my head in my hands. I feel absolutely disgusting.

He's won.

-

--

-

Apologies for the lack of update. Again, family things I have no control over and lots and lots of homework. College life in a nutshell.

I've gotten a bunch of ideas for stories from my life now, but I'm not going to write them until I finish this story and 1.5 MPH, because otherwise I will be a truly horrible person who never updates.

Who's loving the new season? Not me so much. The Butters pimp episode was great because it would be Kyle who cares about losing kisses to girls who don't care. :D So I laughed and was screaming around my dorm room "KYLE IS GAY! KYLE IS GAY!"

Oh, and a great story which kinda inspired me to finally get my ass in gear and finish this chapter (which I'd already outlined but hadn't finished finished, ya know). I was around a bunch of guys who were super stoned watching South Park the other night (the Wing episode if you must know), and they were talking about Kyle being gay because he sucked Cartman's balls. They brought it up on their own and continued the conversation without me contributing.

They argued about the fact that it was in Cartman's imagination, so if that made Kyle gay for sucking his balls, or Cartman gay for imagining it. It was amazing and went on for twenty minutes. These were seniors in college and male. It made my night amazing. Then I kicked their ass in Super Smash Bros Brawl!

So, again I apologize but I really haven't had time to sleep let alone write. My break just started today which is why I went to Starbucks and wrote this entire chapter (essentially).

Much much love to my fans who have remained loyal and the wonderful people who review. Check out my profile page for links to fan art! (They are all fantastic. Thanks again to the amazing artists who remind me that my story is loved.)

Much Love, OR


	14. The Times are Changing

Waiting on an Enemy

Author: OnigiriReject

Summary: Kyle is spotted working his job as a waitress by none other than Cartman. Will Cartman keep his secret? And what's with that smile of his?

Pairings: KyCart with undertones of Stendy.

~South Park and all characters belong to Matt Stone and Trey Parker, I'm just borrowing them for a little fun. ~

--

Chapter 14: The Times are Changing

--

Cartman has won. He's beaten me. He's finally figured out a way to completely destroy me from the inside out.

I sit in class and try to pay attention to the board, but I can't. I can't when I know that he is still alive somewhere. I can't pay attention. Instead, my senses are engulfed by him. I can't stop thinking about him-- he's tainted my innocence and my brain.

He's stolen so much from me at this point. And taking something as important to someone as such an emotional moment as a kiss was just wrong in my opinion.

And that's how he's won—by kissing me and causing so much trouble, he's realized that's how to completely ruin my sanity. By making sure that every moment, I'm thinking about _him_.

"Dude, are you alright? You look exhausted," Stan asks me quietly from my right. I shake my head and rub my eyes.

"Yeah dude, just tired," I say, trying to smile at him. I would rather kill myself than admit to Stan that Cartman and I kissed not once, but twice, and in all actuality I couldn't stop myself from thinking about him.

"Your eyes are bloodshot. Have you been sleeping?" he asks me in a concerned voice. That would be Stan, always the concerned best friend. I can't help but smile at the typical Stan voice.

"Not much, no," I reply. I rub my eyes again and lean back in my chair. I turn around slightly and glance at the desk behind me, which I notice is empty. "Dude, where's Cartman?"

Stan turns back to his notebook, and flips through the pages mindlessly. "You didn't notice he wasn't here the first three periods of the day?"  
I blink. Actually, I hadn't. I'd been avoiding turning around because I was trying to block him out of my mind for the last three hours. I'd wondered why the class seemed more peaceful than usual.

"I guess he's just not here today…" I say quietly.

"You sound disappointed," Kenny comments from my left, not even looking up from his notebook.

"I am not," I snap at him, "I just think it's odd. He was here yesterday."  
"He's probably just skipping," Stan remarks quietly. "Probably off smoking at Stark's Pond or some shit."

"I'm jealous," Kenny replies, putting his head down in his arms and facing me. I attempt to zone in on what Mr. Garrison is saying, but fail.

"Cartman's at home… sick," Kenny whispers to me in a low voice, "Last night, he called me and sounded like shit."  
Well, he did leave the restaurant in a hurry yesterday. That would explain it…

"Whatever. Better for me the less he's around," I say casually, beginning to doodle on my notebook paper.

Kenny rolls his eyes, "You can give him his homework, then."  
I stop and look over at Kenny, whose blue eyes look very domineering. "What?"  
"You can give it to him."

"Why?"

"Because he needs his homework."  
"No," I say exhaustedly, pinching the bridge of my nose, "I mean, why _me_?"  
Kenny thinks for a moment, then a wide smile seems to split his face in two. He tucks a stray strand of blonde hair behind his ear, "Because seeing you would probably make him feel better." His voice was laced with venom. I frown.

"You mean because he could make fun of me? No thanks," I turn back to the notes at hand. God knows how I'm going to pass any of my classes with these interruptions.

"I mean…" Kenny starts again, trying to get my attention, "That you should go see him. Even if you don't want too. Here-" he thrusts a sheet of paper at me and I grab it grudgingly. "Those are the assignments due tomorrow. He needs to get his fat-ass in gear and do the work. And besides, if he doesn't, he'll just try to copy off of you when he gets back."

There was an unfamiliar light in Kenny's eyes, and before I could even begin to protest, the bell rang through the halls and the day was over. Kenny is up and out of his chair before I even begin to put my notes away.

"Asshole," I murmur under my breath.

"You don't have to go to his house, Kyle, just let him fail," Stan says knowingly as he stands up and zips up his backpack.

I sigh again (it seems to be becoming a habit now), "Don't worry, I'm not planning on seeing that idiot until I have to. Kenny was just trying to get a rise out of me."

I, too, stand up and stuff all my papers into my bag. Kenny is now nowhere in site, and I look at Stan. He's still watching me with concern as the other students also begin to leave the classroom.

"Kyle…" Stan begins, slinging the backpack straps over his shoulders. "There's been something going on lately you're not telling me, isn't there?"

Wendy is also packing her things up in the front of the classroom; she looks back at us questioningly. I continue to look at Stan, who's looking at me for an answer. I consider what I could say. I consider, for a brief moment, telling Stan all about in my pathetic desperation to get away from my mom, I started working at Angel Morte as a waitress. I consider telling him that Cartman is a regular customer and has been making my life hell at every turn.

I consider telling Stan that my mom has indeed not gotten any better, and I'm sorry that he and Wendy went through so much trouble because of my stupid depression. And, I even consider telling him that Cartman and I have kissed on numerous occasions for various stupid reasons while I try to keep the secret that I'm actually a boy from the other waitresses, customers, and my boss.

"Wendy's waiting for you," is all I can say to my best friend. No matter how much I would like to tell him why I was upset today, or why Cartman and I have been at each others' throats more than usual, I can't. And I won't. Not until it's absolutely necessary. Stan has enough to think about without me imposing my stupid problems on him.

Stan stares at me for another moment, then turns toward Wendy. "Let's go, Wends."

She nods and looks over at me with concern. She's not working at Angel Morte tonight. After all, it's Thursday and tomorrow is a teacher workday. Three day weekend and all that good shit. She's probably going on a date with Stan tonight.

I watch them leave and realize I'm, once again, alone in the classroom. Frowning, I grab my backpack and follow them out the door ready to go to yet another day of work, with or without Cartman.

--

As I place my backpack (full of my normal clothes and books) in my locker at Angel Morte, Mercedes is smiling at me wholeheartedly.

"Oh Kylie! You and Eric were so cute yesterday!" I pause, my hand on the metal door ready to close it.

I roll my eyes, "I really don't want to talk about it, Mercedes."

"But, you two are finally together! You should be happy!" Mercedes beams at me again through her blonde hair. "I'm jealous—he's really cute. You looked so embarrassed yesterday when he just decided to kiss you in front of everyone-

"Kylie?" a deep voice calls from the front of the backroom. Mercedes and I both glance at the door and see Mr. Yamamoto peaking in slightly, calling for me. "Could we talk for a second please?"  
I nod once and feel my heart sink. Mercedes waves at us and begins to busy herself with reapplying lip gloss.

I walk over toward the door an exit, looking around the restaurant. There is barely anyone here yet. My worries begin to engulf me as I follow Mr. Yamamoto to his office door, next to the kitchen.

Maybe he figured out I was a boy. Maybe Cartman kissing me in front of everyone is infringing upon some rule I didn't know existed. Maybe I didn't wipe down the tables thoroughly enough. Shit shit shit.

Once his door closes behind me, Mr. Yamamoto walks around his desk and sits in a big leather chair, with a laptop in front of him. There is a bonsai tree and a Kleenex box on the desk, and many Japanese posters adorning the walls, mostly of scantily clad schoolgirls in Lolita dresses. I gulp and walk closer to him.

After a moment of silence, he rings his hands together and a smile spreads across his face.

"You go visit your boyfriend," Mr. Yamamoto looks at me seriously, yet I can't help but think he's joking, so I laugh. He doesn't.

"You're serious?" I ask, almost choking on my words.

"Yes, do you realize how much money he left us yesterday? That boy is rich," his eyes light up as he rubs his hands together greedily, "Do whatever you can to keep that boy happy. That money is essential to our wellbeing. The restaurant needs some renovations and the toilets need to be fixed. Take the rest of the day off and go visit him."

I don't make any motion to move. I'm too shocked. I guess he expected me to look thrilled but to tell the truth, I am anything but. He looks at me irately and adds, "That's an _order_ from your boss. _Go_."

With that, he begins typing something on his laptop and makes a hand gesture for me to leave the room. Once I am back out on the restaurant floor, Mercedes shoots me an excited look. I sigh, feeling completely dumbfounded, and retreat into the back room, where I grab my backpack and leave through the emergency exit still dressed clad in my uniform.

Once I get off the bus and change in a nearby gas station, I begin my trek to Cartman's house. It took forty five minutes in the freezing cold weather of a Colorado February to get from my nice, warm Cartman-less job to the asshole's house. Fuck my life.

I stand outside for a moment, clutching hold of the straps on my backpack as I stare at the door of the Cartman residence. There's no rule saying I have to listen to Mr. Yamamoto. Granted, he's my boss, but there's no way he would know if I went to see Cartman or went back to my house to do homework.

Then again, do I really want to see my mom this early in the day? I could just go to the library to do homework—who said I had to come here and check up on him? He's probably just skipping and not actually sick. Why was everyone worrying so much?

I reach out a hand to knock on the door and pause midway, again rethinking my options. The homework I was told to give Cartman is in my book bag, along with mine. I sigh and knock on the door finally. I might as well give it to him now.

For a moment, it doesn't sound like there's any movement on the other side of the door, and I wonder if Cartman is even there. Maybe he left town for a while, or just went to Stark's Pond to get high for a few days. And fell in. And drowned… I can hope.

Just as the thought of leaving crosses my mind, I hear the deadbolt being unlocked from the other side of the door, and it creaks open, revealing a very tired-looking Cartman. His hair was a mess of brown and he was wearing a very dirty over-sized t-shirt, reminding me just how much weight he must have lost since we were younger. His jeans have many rips in them and he isn't even wearing shoes.

"Don't even ask," I say before Cartman can say some sort of snide remark about being at his house because 'I miss him' or some other retarded shit. "Mr. Yamamoto and Kenny are making me visit you. And I brought your fucking homework, so you can't copy off of me using the lame excuse that you were sick, because you had the assignment."

Cartman looks confused for a moment, then relaxes his face into a tired expression. "Whatever, Jew," he says tiredly. He does look like he doesn't feel well… he continues, "Sadly though, I don't want to deal with you right now, so just run on home to your bitch of a mom and-

Before he can finish that sentence, I push Cartman out of the way and enter his living room. He barely protests—he didn't exactly look happy to see me, but he looks like he's just tired.

"It's disgusting in here," I say as I curiously look around the room. And I am right, it is. Half eaten pizzas are left in there boxes and littered on the carpet. Old chip bags and soda cans cover the coffee table- there were even crumbs on the TV. I don't look too closely for fear of seeing bugs. "When was the last time this house was cleaned?"  
"Depends on when my mom left," he says shortly. I stare at him for another moment as he looks anywhere except at me. He really was a lazy asshole for not cleaning the house once since his mom had left… but I can cut him some slack…

I remain silent as he shifts uncomfortably under my gaze.

"Anyway, I'm here to 'take care of you' as I promised my manager," I begin, turning toward the kitchen and trying to wade my way through the mess, "so go sit down and I'll bring you some tea."

"I'm not drinking something as faggy as tea," he says shortly.

I roll my eyes and swivel my head back toward him, "Well, when I'm sick, I drink tea and I feel better, so get the fuck over yourself. If you want to stay sick, fine."

I give up on trying to avoid the mess and figure it's best just to step on all of it. Eventually, I find myself in the kitchen, which isn't in much better shape than the living room. Open boxes of food are strewn across the tiled floor and there are piles of dirty dishes reaching the ceiling in the sink. The trash was over flowing and looked like it hadn't been taken out in months. I cover my nose and tie the bag closed, and in one quick movement, I open the window and throw it out into the garbage cans below.

I look around the kitchen and vaguely wonder where his mom would keep There's an ashtray sitting in the middle of the dining table with some old cigarettes in it. I crinkle my nose and toss the remains into a nearby garbage can, then rethink it and toss the ashtray in after them. If I had to be near Cartman at Angel Morte, I didn't want to fucking smell smoke on his breath. I clamor through the various open pantries until I find the electric teapot, hidden behind open cereal boxes. I fill it up and plug it in while looking around the kitchen again.

How long had Cartman been alone in this house? It was a real wreck. I wouldn't be surprised if he left the door unlocked when he wasn't here, it looked like such a pigsty I think homeless people would feel right at home.

His mom left two weeks before I started working at Angel Morte…

Just then, the teapot releases a high-pitched whistle and I'm broken out of my trance. I unplug it quickly and retrieve a seemingly clean cup from the top shelf of the cabinet. After a few minutes of searching, I find a few tea bags from the back of a drawer, and within minutes, I walk out into the living room, where Cartman is sitting on the couch, with a teacup full of hot tea.

He eyes me like I poisoned it, so I thrust it at him and kick the shit on the floor away, in order for me to sit. I look around for another moment, then back up at Cartman, who's staring at me.

I sigh and roll my eyes, "Just drink it, asshole."

He glares at me for another moment, then takes a swig of the tea and sticks out his tongue like it tastes disgusting. Whatever, I suppose I should be grateful he's even drinking it. I try to think of topics of conversation that won't end with us yelling at each other.

"So, Kenny said you're sick… what do you have? Flu?" I ask tentatively. Could I have contracted anything our kiss yesterday? Fucking swine flu.

Cartman remains silent for a moment and puts down his teacup, looking away from me. He fingers at the cup and seems to be thinking hard.

"I… have been getting really dizzy, and I feel like I have a fever or some shit…" he starts, still not looking at me. "And my heart has been beating really fast for no reason."  
That would explain why I could hear his heart yesterday…

"You better not have given me the flu, asshole," is all I say. He barely looks at me. He has severe bags under his eyes. Maybe he really was sick… I feel kind of bad.

He lifts the teacup to his mouth and takes another sip. "This tastes like ass," he comments. I quickly stand up and look down at him.

"Your kitchen needs to be cleaned," I say, narrowing my eyes. "So does your living room. I'm afraid to see the rest of your house."

Cartman rolls his eyes, "Don't think you have the right to come into my house without permission and then tell me what I should do-

I cut him off and storm into the kitchen before he can tell me otherwise. It smells absolutely atrocious. I reach the sink, turn the faucet on and begin to wash the dishes. Cartman walks over near me and leans against the fridge, his eyes narrowed. "What the hell are you doing, Jew?"

"Mr. Yamamoto told me I have to come here and take care of you, and that's what I'm doing. I can't accept your money unless I actually work for it, so don't argue." I say loudly over the sounds of clashing dishes.

Cartman says nothing in response, so I continue to wash the dishes vigorously. Five minutes pass and he still hasn't said anything, so I glance quickly over my shoulder, and see he's still staring at me intently.

"Wh-what?" I ask nervously, taken off guard. He runs his fingers through his messy brown hair and crosses his arms.

"Nothing," he smirks slightly and closes his eyes, "I just think it's funny how girly you look."

I feel myself turn red and I drop the glass I was holding back in the sink, turning off the faucet. I frown at him and begin to walk out of the kitchen, "Well fuck you, you can do your own dishes then." It was already a stretch for me to come here, let alone try to help him with his chores. Fuck me for showing someone some pity-

"I never said it was a bad thing," he replies curtly, keeping his eyes closed and arms crossed. I stop and turn around, facing him. Curse the fact he's taller than me.

"What?" I ask, slightly confused. Did I mishear him?  
"I said it's not a bad thing to look like a girl…" he opens his eyes lazily and smirks at me, "but when you're cleaning and fucking bringing me tea, I can't help but be reminded how girly you are anyway. With or without that stupid dress."

I feel myself turn redder. What's wrong with me? I'm not exactly angry at what he's saying, but… my stomach is in knots and I'm turning red.

After a moment, Cartman pushes himself off the fridge and looks down at me. "Why are you really here, Kahl?"

I blink. He called me 'Kyle' (or close to it) for once. Lately, it's been Jew more than anything. Or 'Kylie'. But he called me 'Kyle'.

"Because Mr. Yamamoto told me to come take care of you," I answer truthfully, then think about it for another moment. Did I have an ulterior motive when I came here today?

Cartman leans further into me, causing me to step back a little. "Why are you helping me then?"

I stay quiet and look at the floor. "Because even if you're not there… I'm thinking about you. It's easier when you are at school or Angel Morte for me, because then I can at least see what you're doing and know you aren't planning anything fishy. Besides—when you don't visit the restaurant, the girls ask me where you are because you're supposedly my 'boyfriend'."

I look up at him to see if my answer was satisfactory. It's true, I can't stop thinking about him. I can't believe I basically just admitted the fact he won to him. That since he's been kissing me, he's always been on my mind, which was obviously his reason for doing it. He wants to make me always miserable and in his grasp. Which, I am now. Damn him.

His smile is completely wiped off his face and replaced with a weird look of disbelief. "What…" he begins, backing up a step. This reaction wasn't what I was expecting. I expected him to be laughing gleefully in my face at the fact his plan worked. He beat me. He won in our eternal game of chess.

"Bathroom," he says quickly, walking away from me and back into the living room, where I hear him run up the stairs. "And don't steal any of my shit, you filthy Jew!" He calls down after me.

I couldn't have been more surprised at his reaction if he grew three heads and began speaking in fluent Russian. What the hell was that? I thought he'd be happy.

Maybe he actually is sick and went to the bathroom to throw up… that sounds plausible. I sigh and throw my head back.

"Fucking Cartman, do something that makes sense for once," I murmur, unzipping my jacket and throwing it on the floor, near another pile of garbage.

If I want my money, I need Cartman to come back to Angel Morte.

For Cartman to come back to Angel Morte, he can't be sick anymore.

For him to get better, I'm sure his surroundings aren't helping.

Therefore, I need to fix it.

With that, I walk into his living room, with the full intentions of making it a living space once more.

--

I'm suddenly grateful for the years my mom made me help her clean when Dad was away with clients. Also, as punishment for not getting one hundred, in middle school she'd make me stay in on weekends and help her scrub the house from top to bottom.

Mind that I'm not a messy person. At least nothing like this. I've filled up three trash bags worth of garbage from the living room alone.

How did his mom put up with this? What would happen if she didn't clean?

I tie yet another garbage sack closed and take it to the front door, where I place it next to the other three. At least now it looks like he has a floor.

I quickly realize that I am running paper towels, so I look around the kitchen for a bit. Again, none. After practically giving up, I scan my brain to think where there might be more. My mom keeps some in her closet at home…

I walk up to Ms. Cartman's door, and slowly turn the knob. The door creaks open, revealing a very empty looking room. I walk into the middle and look around. There was no make up lying on the chest of drawers, no pictures in frames on the walls. There weren't even sheets on the bed. Everything is bare.

Hesitantly, I walk over to the closet and pull open the doors. There are no clothes hanging up. No shoes on the bottom. No anything.

After a minute of standing there stupidly, staring into the empty closet, I walk over to the drawers and pull them open as well. Again, nothing.

My brain slowly ticks into motion again. I thought it was strange he hadn't heard from her once since she'd left. Has she done this before?

When my mom goes somewhere, she at least leaves a note. Some money. Something. Cartman was left with nothing… not even a phone number to call…

The pit in my stomach feels like its growing larger as I run through the possibilities.

He has to know… why hasn't he told anyone?

She isn't here anymore… is she?

"What're you doing in here? Looking to steal my mom's stuff?" a familiar voice says from behind me. I turn around, my hand still on the drawer. It trembles slightly as I look up at Cartman.

"Is she really gone?" is the only thing I can ask. Cartman's facial expression doesn't change once as I continue to watch him. Moments pass and he still stands in the doorway, looking at me.

"She…" I begin again, letting go of the handle and walking toward Cartman a bit.

"You should leave," he says, his eyes cold. He turns his back on me and I rush up next to him.

"How long has it been Cartman?" I ask, putting my hand on his shoulder and trying to get him to turn around. He shrugs my hand off and glances down at me coldly.

"How long have I been going to Angel Morte?"

Since the beginning of January.

"At least a month before that."

This surprises me. How had no one noticed?

He continues to stare down at me irately as I look up at him. "You haven't heard from her once?"

At this, he snaps, "Don't even think about pitying me, _Jew_," I wince at the anger in his voice, "she's done this before."

"With all of her stuff gone?" I inquire. "For fuck's sake Cartman, it looks like she's just abandoned you-

As soon as the words left my mouth, I regretted it. He doesn't yell. He doesn't attack me. He just looks at me, the bags under his eyes becoming more pronounced by the second. He did not appear to be angered by my words, nor like this was any news. He already figured it out.

His mom really did leave him?  
"Just leave, Kahl," he says quietly, still looking at me. There was no anger in his voice. He just sounded tired.

I look up at him hopelessly. I feel like a real asshole for saying what I did. "Is this what you and Kenny have been talking about?"

He doesn't respond. He just backs up against the wall and stares down at me. The large t-shirt he's wearing seems to be eating him alive.

"I've felt like the two of you have been hiding something from me for a while now…" I start again, "This is it? This is what Kenny's been hinting at?"

When Kenny told me to come visit Cartman, I thought he was trying to set us up for a fight. Was this what he was trying to get me to see?

"Probably," is all Cartman says. I really have no idea what to do.

I realized before how different our family lives were. How my mom, although overbearing, was always there. His mom, although she really loved him, has been leaving him alone. Why? Did she find a better life somewhere? Was she trying to earn money?  
Or… I bite my lip. Could he really have been too much for his mom?  
I think back to when I started my job. The third time Cartman came to the restaurant and I served him. It feels like forever ago.

"_Did something happen?"_

"_Kinda," he says, staring at the table. "My mom hasn't been home for a few days."_

"…_Are you worried?" I ask. _

"_Not especially…" he looked up at me again. His eyes looked sad. "But, it sucks sometimes, ya know? That's why I come here. For people…" He stares into my eyes, "What's up?"_

"_You mean you're… lonely?"_

_He huffs and turns slightly pink, "That's a fucking gay way of saying it."_

He didn't deny it. Has he been lying to me then, too, when he said only a few days?

All I can wish for is to get away from my mom, and all he's probably wishing for is to see his mom again. I feel like a real ass.

"Stop staring at me like I'm some charity case," Cartman says bitterly. I forgot that I hadn't said anything in a while—I guess I was staring at him. I look into his brown eyes. They looked just as sad and confused as I felt.

"If it was up to me," he continues, not breaking our gaze, "no one would know about this. She's done this kind of thing before, but…"

But this feels final, I finish to myself. Some things really are better left unsaid.

"Kenny knows a lot more than I would ever tell him, or anyone really," he adds, looking at me. "And… I guess it was only a matter of time before you found out, you nosy Jew."

The slight doesn't even bother me. I feel myself growing dizzy and I lean on the wall next to the door. "I won't tell anyone," I say defiantly, still looking at him.

Cartman opens his eyes and stares at me incredulously. I continue, closing my eyes, "You didn't tell anyone that I work at Angel Morte. You didn't tell anyone about my mom… even if I hate you, I'm above spreading that kind of shit."

My words felt empty, even to me. It's a little funny. It's true, I would never tell anyone that sort of thing. That was his and his mom's business, and I wouldn't want people knowing about mine. That part made sense.

But did I really _hate_ Cartman anymore? Was it 'hate'? I can barely tell.

"Cartman…" I start again, opening my eyes and looking at him again. He's still looking at me with piqued interest. I wouldn't blame him if he didn't believe me. Hell, after our years of fighting, I didn't believe him when he said he wouldn't tell anyone about my job at Angel Morte. "I _promise_," I emphasize the word, "that I will not tell a soul about this."

He's still watching me. "If?"

I blink, "If what?"

"You don't have any conditions?"

I scan my brain. Cartman would think about conditions. "Can't I just promise not to tell anyone, for the sake of not telling anyone?"

He stares at me for another moment with his piercing brown eyes, then smiles, and leans back into the wall. "You idiot. You could have made me agree to never go to Angel Morte again in exchange for you keeping my secret."

My face falls. "…Fuck, you're right." God, I'm so fucking _stupid_ sometimes!

After about a minute of me cursing myself and Cartman amusedly watching, I face him again, "Well, I need the money. I still have a goal, after all, that I will continue to work toward no matter what."

"Whatever," Cartman smiles and leaves the room, "It's getting late, Jew, you should probably go home before the bitch starts to worry."

I reach into my jeans' pocket and pull out my phone. It was almost eight o'clock, how did it get so late?  
"I'll keep cleaning," Cartman calls from the other room. I walk into the living room and he's still not looking at me. "And… I'll come to school tomorrow," he adds quietly.

I watch him for another moment and, before I know what I'm doing, a smile spread across my face. "Alright. I'll give you the homework assignment before I leave…"  
I enter the kitchen and grab my jacket off the floor. After zipping it up, I open my backpack and pull out the sheet Kenny gave me to give to Cartman.

"Here," I say once I enter the living room. I hold out the paper for him to take, and he stares at me blankly. Eventually, he grudgingly takes the paper from me and I turn toward the door, exiting before he could say another word.

--

As soon as I close the front door behind me, my mom is the one to greet me. "Why were you at the Cartman's house, Kyle?"

I just look at her for a moment, wondering how she found out. "How did you know?"  
"Don't change the subject, Kyle. You were supposed to be at the library," her red hair seems to crackle with electricity from her anger. "You lied to me. Why were you at the Cartman's house?"

I could practically kick myself once it sinks in that for once, I had my phone with me in the day. I must have grabbed it when I was so out of it this morning. "He was sick and I was delivering to him the homework assignment," I state calmly. It was true. I lucked out that I didn't go to Angel Morte long enough today to send a signal to the tracker.  
"For five hours?" she asks, narrowing her eyes. She suspected something else. And it was true—I was cleaning, not doing homework, but I'm not about to tell her that.  
"We were working on it together."  
"Kyle…" my mom takes a deep breath and looks me in the eyes again, rubbing her head like she has a headache, "Don't spend time with that Eric boy, especially at his house. I know how much trouble he's been to you over the years, and his family is partially the influence." I can feel the blood rushing through my veins and my heart pounding in anger as she continues, "God knows what his mother has taught him about values and morals- his problems start at home. If he had better parenting, he wouldn't be taking out all his problems on you-

"Don't you dare speak about him like that, Mom!" I scream at her, my lungs hurting from the loudness of my voice. "You don't know anything! You don't know him, you don't know what his life is like, and you certainly don't understand his family life so why don't you back the fuck out!"

Before my mother could say another word, I'm up the stairs and in my room, locking the door and pushing my dresser against it. The rest of the night, I hear her banging against my door and yelling, threatening to call the cops if I didn't open the door, etc. But that didn't matter.

I'd stood up to her. I smile to myself as I clutch my legs closer. I stood up against my mom. And before she knows it, I'll be out of here, and she'll be out of my life, for good.

--

---

--

Ahhh just happy to get this chapter out as early as I did. There might be some typos I didn't pick up, bear with me please. Now I have two essays to write and two projects due Monday. Fantastic.

Much Love, OR


	15. Nothing to You

Waiting on an Enemy

Author: OnigiriReject

Summary: Kyle is spotted working his job as a waitress by none other than Cartman. Will Cartman keep his secret? And what's with that smile of his?

Pairings: KyCart with undertones of Stendy.

~South Park and all characters belong to Matt Stone and Trey Parker, I'm just borrowing them for a little fun. ~

--

Chapter 15: Nothing to You

--

"Kyle, you open this door!"

_Thud._

"Bubbe, I am talking to you! Open this door right now!"

_Thud._

Sleeping is not an option. I look up from my crouched position on the floor at my analog clock. It's midnight, and she's still kicking. I doubt she'll rest until I open this door. Now I'm really starting to regret what I said.

I mean, yes, I'm glad I finally stood up to her, but why the hell did it have to be about _Cartman_ of all things? The irony of my current situation is blaring.

"Kyle, _open the door_!"

"Sheila, what's wrong?" I can hear my dad from the other side as well now. The hitting has subsided briefly.

"It's Kyle! He locked the door and won't answer when I call him!"

"It's midnight, honey, maybe you should come to bed…" I grimace. My dad is such a pussy sometimes.

"Not until he opens the door! Ike never would have done this!" I freeze and feel my blood begin to boil. Comparing me to my little brother again. He's not even here—he's away at school and even now I can't get a break.

I push myself off the ground (where I have been sitting for the last two hours listening to my mom) and walk over to where I threw my backpack. I rummage through the front pocket, until I find the desired object: my phone.

I click the phonebook and scroll until I see Cartman's number--

Wait… was I seriously about to call Cartman? Why? Why the hell would I call him right now?

"KYLE, I AM _TALKING_ TO YOU!" she bangs the door again. I growl angrily as I hear my chest of drawers (that I pushed up against the door) shake violently. Looking back at the phone, I scroll down briefly until I reach 'Stan Marsh'.

--

_Ring_. No answer. The phone rings three more times, and just when I think he's too dead asleep to be awoken, the line clicks.

"…Hello?" Stan's voice is quiet. It sounds like I really did wake him up.

"Hey, dude," I say, not really knowing where to begin.

"Kyle?" he asks sleepily. "What time is it…?"

"Dude, I need a favor…" I bite my lip and try to think of an explanation. As if hearing my thoughts, my mom bangs against the door again.

"Kyle, I swear if you don't open this door _right now_, I will call the police!"

There is a brief pause on the line, and then he says, "I'll be right there."  
He hangs up before I can say another word. I almost smile to myself as I am reminded that Stan truly is my best friend. I close my phone and throw it onto the bed, reminding myself not to bring it with me anymore. My mom doesn't have a right to know where I am every second of the day.

I walk over to the chest of drawers against my door and pull open the various drawers, gathering clean pairs of underwear and socks, two pairs of jeans and three clean shirts. I stuff them all in my backpack, which was already very full of my books for class and my waitress dress. The zipper gets stuck slightly but I manage to close it and throw the bag over my shoulder. It practically pulls me to the ground with all the weight.

"Bubbe, open the door!" my mom screams again. I glance at the door and flip my middle finger at nothing.

Later, Mom.

With that, I walk over to my window, push up the glass pane, and look down at the ground. Luckily, the gutter is right next to my window, so it's not too difficult to climb down. Then again, the last time I'd done that was in freshman year…

Sophomore year, I was too busy with studying to sneak out of my house. I look down at the ground hesitantly, and before I can think the situation through (and have a chance of changing my mind), I jump out the window.

--

Falling on my back might have hurt more if my backpack wasn't so goddamn full. Or if there weren't two feet of snow that night. Luckily, Stan was just pulling into my driveway the second I jumped out, so he helped me stand up and walk to his car. If I wasn't so fucking klutzy, I would have been able to keep hold of the gutter. And wouldn't have fallen in the first place. Cartman would have laughed his ass off if he saw what I did.

"Thanks for picking me up, dude," I say to Stan, wincing slightly as we exit his car. We walk into his house (and lock the door) without waking his parents up, and now we ware in his room. It looks practically the same since the last time I was here, except there is more of an accumulation of dirty clothes on the floor.

"No problem," he says, pulling off his jacket and throwing it into the never-ending pile of clothes. We left the lights off, so I just swung the door closed behind me and dropped my bag to the floor. I am too freaking tired to do much more.

Stan throws his pillow onto the floor and practically collapses into the bed.

"Sleep," he orders me, waving his arm in the general direction of where he threw the pillow. I smile.

"Your parents won't mind I'm here?" I ask quietly, dropping to the floor and letting my head fall onto the pillow.

"They love you, dude. They'd be more concerned if I brought Cartman over in the middle of the night," he rolls over and curls up on his bed, still fully clad in his jeans and jacket.

I close my eyes and curl up in my spot on the floor. Stan's room is incredibly warm—there's next to no need for a blanket.

I guess parents really would be more concerned if Cartman came to their house in the middle of the night. He has always appeared to be more of a threat…

"_Stop staring at me like I'm some charity case,"_ his sharp tone says in my head. I wince and curl into myself further. Did Cartman really push his mom into leaving? Was he too much for even his mom, who is supposed to love him no matter what, to deal with?

I mean, my mom isn't much better in a way. She just pushes her own ideals of what she wants me to be onto me, forgetting that I have my own thoughts and dreams that she has no business deciding.

But… not even Cartman deserved to be left alone.

"I can hear you thinking," Stan's voice breaks me out of my reprieve. "Go to sleep."

"Night dude," I reply lamely, trying to push all thoughts of Cartman out of my head.

When did this all become so difficult?

--

"So, what passage do we have to analyze?" Kenny asks, flipping through his copy of Alice's Adventures in Wonderland. It was English again, and we only had one hour until the day was over and I had to go work at Angel Morte, and then it was the weekend.

"For the hundredth time," I reply exasperatedly, "It's the latter part of chapter six, when Alice meets the Cheshire Cat. We have to discuss their conversation."

"This is such a faggy book," Cartman mutters, putting the book down on the desk and facing Stan. "What the hell is up your ass?"

"Nothing," Stan answers shortly, keeping his head down in his arms. I sigh and try to focus on the reading. I feel like it's my fault he's like this…

"_Where are your parents?" I ask once I reach the kitchen. I woke up at seven thirty and Stan wasn't in his room, so I decided to check the kitchen._

"_They were leaving for a honeymoon trip or something, they won't be back for another week," Stan answers quickly, taking another gulp of cereal. He shoves the box of Frosted Flakes at me and says through a mouthful of cereal, "Eat."  
"I don't usually eat in the mornings…" I answer lamely, walking over to the table and sitting down next to him._

"_So, Kyle… what is going on?" Stan asks, not looking at me. I look up at him._

"_What do you mean?"  
"I mean… with your mom, and your job, which Wendy refuses to tell me what it is…" he trails off and puts his spoon back in the bowl of Frosted Flakes. "We're supposed to be best friends, and you can't tell me what something as trivial as your job is?"_

_I cast my gaze downward and remain silent. I did want to tell Stan everything. I really did. I want him to forgive me and hug me and tell me everything's okay and no matter what, we'll still be best friends. I feel terrible for how I've treated him and…_

"_It's nothing," I answer quietly._

"_Don't give me that. And, you've been acting weirder than usual around Cartman lately. I always come in at the end of conversations, and it sounds like Cartman's blackmailing you with something!" Stan stands up quickly and stares down at me. "What is it, Kyle? What does he have on you?"_

_I swallow nothing and look back up at Stan. "It's nothing to worry about, Stan…. I have it under control."_

_He looks angry. "Why can't you just give me the truth, for once, Kyle? I just want you to be okay."_

We hadn't spoken once in the car ride to school or once we sat down in class. I get the feeling Stan is mad at me.

"So what do they say in the book?" Kenny interrupts my memory and I growl angrily.

I pick up my book again and read the highlighted passage.

" 'Cheshire Puss'," (Cartman snorts at the mention of pussy, I ignore him and continue,) "she began, rather timidly, as she did not at all know whether it would like the name: however, it only grinned a little wider. 'Would you tell me please which way I ought to go from here?'

'That depends a good deal on where you want to get to,' said the Cat.

'I don't care much where—' said Alice.

'Then it doesn't matter which way you go,' said the Cat.

'-so long as I get somewhere,' added Alice as an explanation.

'Oh you're sure to do that,' said the Cat, 'if you walk long enough.' "

"This book is a load of bullshit," Cartman says, twiddling his pen between his fingers. I put the book down and frown at him.

"Maybe you just don't appreciate classic literature, asshole," I say, narrowing my eyes.

"Fuck off, kike, you know I like Crime and Punishment. Don't play that card--

"Kyle Broflovski, please make your way to the principal's office," a voice calls over the intercom system. Everyone stops what they are doing and turns to look at me. We all share equal gazes of confusion, and eventually I turn back to look at Cartman.

"Don't look at me, Jew, I didn't do anything," he says huffily, crossing his arms.

"What's going on?" Stan whispers at me.

I see Wendy in the front row glancing at me worriedly. Could this have anything to do with Angel Morte? Even Kenny isn't smiling.

"Well, go on Kyle, and let us get back to class," Mr. Garrison says, his chalk paused mid-sentence on the board. I stand up and leave my bag at my desk, and slowly walk through the rows toward the door.

Even Kenny wasn't smiling as I exited the room. It was unusual for anyone besides Cartman or Craig to be called, and sometimes me if Cartman was involved. But this was the first time I had been called for _alone_.

I walk through the empty halls, my footsteps echoing loudly against the tiles.

--

Even though our teacher was still Mr. Garrison, that was because anytime he didn't get promoted through the years, he would pull the 'I'm gay' card and say that they were discriminating against him. We had a different principal and guidance counselor, though, because Mr. Mackey did not want to deal with the problems of high school kids.

She is a tall bespectacled red-haired woman. Kenny once spoke about how hot she was, that he went to her at least twice a week a year ago. Her name was Ms. Veronica, I think. Our principal I had only seen once before. He was a rather stout older man with a large mustache, and only came up to my shoulder. Last time I had seen him was my freshman year, when he caught Cartman and I mid-fight in the hallway. We'd only gotten a lecture on how the words 'fat-ass' and 'kike' were inappropriate in the halls of learning. His name was Mr. Shooter I believe.

"Kyle, please, sit," Mr. Shooter said, motioning to one of the two chairs in front of his desk. I nod once and take a seat, the uncomfortable wood making my butt ache.

"Kyle…" Ms. Veronica says, putting her hand on my shoulder, "It's been called to our attention that you're having troubles at home."

I completely freeze—who told her? Kenny? Stan? Wendy?

"Yes, your mom called in this morning and wanted a meeting with us and you," Mr. Shooter continues. At this point, it feels like even my blood had stopped in my veins.

You have got to be kidding. I hear the door behind me swing open.

"Thank you for arranging this meeting," I hear my mother's screeching voice say from behind me. "Ms. Veronica, Mr. Shooter."

I turn and get a direct look into my mother's green eyes. She does not look happy.

"No problem, Mrs. Broflovski, we're as concerned about your son's behavior as you are," Ms. Veronica smiles and motions for my mother to sit down in the seat behind me. I can't believe this- 'concerned about my behavior'? What's going on?

My mom sits down beside me and places a hand on my shoulder, gripping tightly, although the others don't notice. "I'm sorry for the short notice, but Kyle snuck out of the house late last night and didn't return. I was so relieved to hear he was at school, but I'm still worried. Bubbe has been having trouble lately- his behavior is erratic and out of control. He lies and I barely see him anymore, I don't know what to do!" she starts. I can't fucking believe her.

"Well, Kyle's grades have remained intact," the counselor remarks, flipping through a file entitled 'Broflovski, Kyle'.

"Obviously, Kyle's troubles start here at school," my mom goes on to say. "At home, all he's received is loving attention from my husband and I."

"When did this behavior begin, Ms. Broflovski?" Ms. Veronica asks like I'm not here.

"Shortly after his brother Ike left for college," I twitch at that and wrench my shoulder away from my mom's arm. No one thinks anything of it and she continues, "They were very close, you see, and he probably just misses him, but lately his behavior has become increasingly violent, and I think it's because of the bad influences at this school." She finishes, crossing her arms and looking down her nose at the principal and counselor. I'd seen this look before. This was the same look she had when she blamed Canada for Kenny's death all those years ago.

"What do you mean?" Mr. Shooter says, leaning forward into his desk, looking over his mustache at my mom.

It was the look she had when she decided to blame everyone but herself. "It's because of that terrible influence _Eric Cartman_!"

There is a sudden silence in the room as soon as she says that. My mouth drops open. "Mom, you can't seriously blame Cartman for-

"It is true that that boy causes more trouble than he's worth," the principal says, stroking his mustache. "I've seen him in here way too many times for bullying other students. There's even a rumor that his mother left town because he was too much…" he adds almost as an afterthought. My body turns to ice as I hear this. He looks down at me, "Son, what has this boy done to you?"

I would almost laugh if I wasn't so angry- that was a loaded question. A better question would be what _hasn't_ Cartman done to me?

"This boy has bullied and harassed my son since kindergarten, Mr. Shooter, and I have finally had enough. I want this boy expelled," my mom spits out the word violently and bangs her fist on the principal's desk.

_No._

"Mom, you can't be serious!" I yell at her. The three adults turn to look at me like they just remembered I was there. I'm standing in my chair and looking down at the three of them. "Cartman hasn't done anything new to me that's causing these problems…. I…"

I steady my breathing and sit down.

"I just need a break from my family," I say through my teeth as I try to steady my voice.

"Bubbe, what are you talking about?" my mom asks, reaching over toward me, "This is all that terrible boy Eric's fault. Without your family you can't-

"Yes I _can_, Mom," I flinch away from her, as I look the counselor square in the eyes. "I need to just be away from my family for a bit and I'll be fine. I've already made living arrangements," I lie quickly.

Ms. Veronica nods once, "After observing the two of you… that sounds best for now."

The principal holds the bridge of his nose for a moment, reminding me slightly of Stan, "Young man… I don't want to see you in this office again, do I make myself clear?"

"Yes, sir."  
"It was your mother's idea to have this meeting in the first place… from your record you are an exemplary student. I'm sure your judgment is best in this situation, however, might I remind you that academics come after your personal happiness. So…" he winks at me, "Remember that." A smile is barely seen under his large mustache.

"Hold on a minute, it is not within the school's rights to decide where my son can or can't live!" my mother begins to argue.

"Mom… just oblige for now. It'll only be for like a week, and I'll get my homework done. But I can't sleep in our house anymore and it's getting in the way of my work," I say, trying to convince her. She narrows her eyes. Her red hair seems to crackle with electric sparks.

"You should never speak to your mother in that tone of voice, young man. You will all hear from my husband, he is a lawyer and he will sue the entire school district for this-

"I'll be home in a week. I already have my things." With that, I stand up and make my way for the exit.

As soon as the door to the office clicks shut behind me, I can hear my mother's voice rise again as she (most likely) berates the counselor and principal. I sigh and look up, and I notice that Kenny, Stan, and (oddly enough) Cartman were all crowded around my locker across the hall. I smile to myself slightly as I walk over to join them.

"So?" Stan asks as soon as he sees me, a worried look on his face.

"It was just my mom," I say, keeping my eyes down. I didn't especially want to talk about it. I push past Cartman and Kenny to get to my locker and begin to turn the lock.

"The bitch freaked out you weren't there this morning?" Cartman asks, leaning against the locker closest to mine. He watches me curiously.

"Yeah," I answer shortly, opening my locker and grabbing my stuff. Before I pull the bag out of my locker I turn and face my three friends, "I can't… live with my mom for a bit."

Kenny's blue, Stan's hazel and Cartman's brown eyes all stare at me for a moment, processing what I just said.

I look between Stan and Cartman for a moment, and think about the possibilities. Living with Kenny is out of the question, he barely eats and his parents are alcoholics, plus he probably brings home a different girl every night. This leaves Stan, my super best friend, and Eric Cartman… who would probably suffocate me in my sleep.

"You can stay with any of us," Cartman says quickly. I blink and Kenny and Stan turn to look at him as well. I feel my face heat up in embarrassment at the thought of living with Cartman.

Was Eric offering me to stay with him? Granted… I did clean his house last time I was there. Maybe he needs a maid or something. It's not like he's actually trying to be nice or anything stupid like that. Then again, Cartman is looking anywhere but at me. Is he actually trying to be nice?

"Kyle's shit is already at my house, he can live with me for the time being," Stan says slowly, still watching Cartman. Kenny watches both of them with interest as a large smile spreads across his face.

"Yeah _Eric_, I'm sure it would be best for Kyle to live with Stan," Kenny purrs, his blue eyes narrowing as Cartman shifts uncomfortably under his gaze.

"Hey, I was just offering," Cartman says defensively, taking a step back from Kenny. I roll my eyes and ignore the two of them, turning my attention to Stan.

"You sure this is okay?" I ask him.

"Of course, dude," he replies, tucking a loose strand of black hair behind his ear. "We're best friends, aren't we?"

Elation fills up my chest as I beam at him. Stan and I are still best friends. He smiles back, and I turn back toward Kenny and Cartman just in time to see Kenny pushed up against the locker.

"I swear, you poor little piece of shit, you better back off before I-

"Oh _Eric_," Kenny continues, smiling gleefully even though Cartman has him picked up by his collar, "You're just ever so cute when you're mad!"

Wham. In a split second, Kenny is lying on the floor and Cartman is above him panting. Everything seems to freeze for a moment as Kenny looks up at Cartman, the area around his eye red and bleeding.

"You asshole! I didn't think you'd actually hit me!" Kenny yells as he covers his eye with his hand. He looks over at Stan and I, "Aren't you guys going to do something?"

I stare down at him for another moment and before I know what I'm doing, I begin to laugh. Stan looks at me worriedly for a moment as I hold my stomach and my laughter continues.

"I'm sorry Kenny…" I say between giggles, "but you were kinda asking for that."

With this, Stan's face also breaks into a smile and he laughs as well. The look on Kenny's face is completely priceless—not only is one of his eyes shut and bleeding, but his jaw could have hit the floor with the surprise at what I said.

Cartman smirks slightly and walks over to Kenny, holding out his arm to help him up. Kenny is the only one who doesn't seem to think this is amusing at all.

"I'm probably going to get a black eye," he says, sounding annoyed. Stan pats him on the back.

"You really did deserve that, Ken," he says, still smiling. "Tell you what—tonight, the three of you guys can sleep over at my house. Have some guy time for a change. Cartman, bring videogames."

"Who said I'd want to come to your faggy little sleepover?" Cartman says disdainfully, but he's smiling. He turns to look at me and I can't help but smile back.

My laughter begins to subside as I look back at my three friends, and realize that finally, things might be better than they seem.

--

"So… Kyle," Kenny asks me as the four of us walk through the parking lot, Kenny and I straggling behind while Cartman and Stan talk about which games to bring. I don't like the tone in his voice.

"What?" I ask, shooting him an uneasy look. His smile widens.

"What's happening with you and Cartman?" he asks.

"I found out about his mom."

"I'm glad you finally got the hint," he answers knowingly, linking his hands behind his head and looking up in the stormy sky. "but that's not what I'm talking about."

I meet his blue eyes for a moment and look toward Cartman walking ahead of us. "I don't know what you mean…"

"I don't know… it's just," he bites his lips as he thinks through his statement. Our feet crunch in the snow as we approach Stan's car. "When you two interact… it just seems a bit warmer or something. Not as much hatred."

I stop walking and stare after Kenny as I think about his words. It was true that there wasn't as much hate behind my words for him. Most of our arguments were just a reaction now—instinctual really. When had we become, dare I say, nicer to each other?

It's true that when my mom brought up the idea of getting him expelled earlier, I automatically reacted to my feelings at the moment…

I didn't want Cartman expelled. At any other time in my life, that idea would have been bliss for me. What changed? Why am I acting like this?  
Why can't I bring myself to hate him anymore?

As if hearing my thoughts, Cartman stops walking and turns toward me, his brown eyes meeting my green ones. His eyes don't look angry, or full of hatred, or anything. Just an inquisitive stare. My heart beat speeds up as I remember the last time he really looked me in the eyes, and that was right before he kissed me at Angel Morte.

"Come on, Jew, we don't have all day," he says, motioning for me to hurry up. I glance quickly over at Kenny as Stan unlocks his car door and starts the ignition. Kenny is smiling widely at me. He saw everything.

I spring ahead of him to the car, finally catching up with Cartman and the car. He puts a hand on his door and leans against it lazily, waiting for me to reach him. I soon reach my door and put my hand on the handle, "Are you working today?" he asks in a low voice.

I can't look him in the eyes. He's so close I can feel his breath on my face. I close my eyes and try to think about what he said- work. Right.

"I… have a lot of sick days," I reply quietly so Kenny and Stan can't hear, "I can take one night off."

I hear Cartman chuckle, so I turn my head to look at him. He's grinning.

"Good," is all he says. And within another second, he opens the passenger front door and sits down.

It takes me a second to figure out what happened. "Hey!" I yell quickly, "I always get shotgun!"

"You snooze, you lose, Jew," he says flatly, smiling as he closes the door. I growl. I can't believe he got me like that. Kenny comes bounding up on the other side of the car and shoots me a sneaky look.

"Hurry up, _Kylie_," Kenny says before jumping into the car.

I would be angry that Cartman tricked me into losing shotgun, or the fact Kenny was teasing me about my job again. But I can't find it in me to be angry at a moment when everything… just seems right.

--

_Alice felt that this could not be denied, so she asked another question. "What sort of people live here?"_

"_In that direction," The Cat said, waving its right paw round, "lives a Hatter; and in that direction," waving the other paw, "lives the March Hare. Visit either you like; they're both mad."_

"_But I don't want to go among mad people," Alice remarked._

"_Oh, you can't help that," said the Cat, "We're all mad here. I'm mad. You're mad."_

"_How do you know I'm mad?" said Alice._

"_You must be," said the Cat, "or you wouldn't have come here."_

--

---

--

Oh, the beautiful catalyst that pushes Kyle further into his fate. Yes, it is beautiful to admire, especially since next chapter is when it all hits the fan.

Random side note I thought was amusing: Did you guys know that 'ike' is a rude slang term for a Jewish person? I knew about kike, but the creators of South Park truly are devilish for naming the youngest Jewish son 'Ike'. I thought it was pretty amusing.

Yes, I am excited for the next chapter. Not one of you will guess what happens, muahaha. Just remember: something needs to happen.

Much Love, OR

PS: I do not quit my stories. Look at the last update date if you really are concerned if I stopped writing a story or not. Or check my profile, I say if something is on hiatus or not. There are also beautiful playlists for your listening pleasure.

PSS: I have no idea how long this story will be. Really. In terms of planning, I only planned until the next two chapters… no idea what happens after that. Yet.

PSSS: My year of writing SP fanfic anniversary was Nov 4! I was going to release this chapter on that day but it was taking too long to write… and I had lots of homework.


	16. Feel the Pain

Waiting on an Enemy

Author: OnigiriReject

Summary: Kyle is spotted working his job as a waitress by none other than Cartman. Will Cartman keep his secret? And what's with that smile of his?

Pairings: KyCart with undertones of Stendy.

~South Park and all characters belong to Matt Stone and Trey Parker, I'm just borrowing them for a little fun. ~

/\/\

Warning: This chapter contains the use of the illicit substance cannabis sativa (more commonly known as marijuana). If you have a moral dilemma with reading this chapter, please don't leave a nasty review about how the boys wouldn't do drugs and blah blah. In my beautiful little universe, where Kyle cross-dresses for money and they are all at least seven years older, it is perfectly fine. After all, it's a story. And I already said that Cartman smokes at Stark's Pond in an earlier chapter.

And to use a South Park episode to argue my point- Major Boobage. Smug Alert. Kyle did acid, which is way worse than weed in terms of health risks, effects and is just much higher on the dangerous drug spectrum.

Why weed? Because I'm sick of reading stories where characters get drunk and decide to make out. Being high has so many more plot points than being drunk.

Any complaints about 'out of character-ness' will not be appreciated.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

Chapter 16: Feel the Pain

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

How did I get myself into this situation? I mean… okay, yes I haven't hung out with Stan, Kenny, and Cartman since like ninth grade, but I didn't think things would change this much within two years. I mean, I don't exactly hate Cartman anymore, Wendy and I are finally friends, Kenny has become a total playboy, I get to live with Stan, and I'm cross-dressing as a waitress for money. Pretty weird, huh?

Anyway, I never imagined in a million years I would be in a situation where someone would pass me a bong. Hell, I barely know what one looks like aside from the occasional Internet browsing on my part. When they asked me if I wanted to smoke… I just crinkled my nose and noted to myself that I hated cigarettes. I sort of just shrugged and didn't really notice what was going on until Kenny pulled a small plastic container from his pocket and Stan returned from upstairs, holding a glass bong.

I watch as Kenny and Stan prepare it (getting water in it, putting the weed in a tiny holder, etc) and Kenny asks, "Who wants green? I'm offering."

I continue to stare at the three of them, completely flabbergasted. Before thinking about it, I ask, "Is that marijuana?"

All three stare at me for another moment as we sit on the Marsh's sofa cushions (which Stan placed in a circle on the floor next to the TV). Kenny is the first to burst out laughing at the confused look on my face.

"You didn't expect weed?"

I swear my jaw could have hit the floor with that one. "No, I didn't," I say defiantly, looking at Stan. "I was unaware you guys smoked."

Kenny smirks, "It's a hobby of mine. Stan only does it with me though."

Stan just shrugs, "If you don't want to, it's okay Kyle."  
The fat-ass to my left snorts with laughter, "God what a pussy, you could try and take one hit, Kahl."

I shoot Cartman a look of loathing, "I can't stand tobacco smoke. What makes you think I'd like this any more?"  
Kenny flips some of his blonde hair behind his neck and leans toward me, still holding the bong. "This smoke is not nearly the same, watch—"

While Stan, Cartman and I watch, Kenny puts his mouth on the open end of the glass structure, lights the little cup thing he put the weed in with Cartman's lighter, and takes a long breath. The glass container fills up with smoke, and soon enough, it's gone and Kenny lets out a large smoky sigh.

"See? Is that so wrong?"

Normally, I would probably say no to the idea of weed, but that was before it was my friends doing it and offering it to me. Despite the fact that weed is completely illegal, I have to admit, I'm a little curious. And, I finally told my mom off, and I don't have to work at Angel Morte today. I'm pretty content with my life right now… I could use a little reward, I guess. It could be time to experiment… or something.

I look at the three of them again. "You promise this is safe?"

"Dude, you can't get much safer than in my house," Stan says, smiling reassuringly. He's right. It's better to try it once now, and if I don't like it, then I don't have to do it again. I'm basically safe in here anyway.

I nod once and Cartman makes a noise of amusement as Kenny leans forward and holds the bong to my mouth. He lights what's left of the weed and I close my eyes— Stan tells me to inhale.

Lift off.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

"Dude," Stan says. He sounds so far away. "You know… things with Wendy have been weird lately."

"That's girls for you. Total waste of time… besides a fuck," Kenny says, munching on the potato chips in front of him.

I begin to chuckle and Cartman looks over at me. "He said 'fuck'," is my only justification for laughing. Then I think about how absurd this whole situation is, and I begin to laugh louder.

Cartman begins to laugh as well, and looks over at Kenny, "He's geeking out."

"Don't act like you've never geeked before," Kenny smiles and lies back in the pillows.

"It feels like everything has a pulse," I comment, facing Cartman.

His sleeve feels cool.

So does his hand.

His face looks really neat close up.

"Can you feel it?" I ask, smiling at him. His whole body feels like it's pulsating under my hand. I interlock his fingers with mine and curiously flip over his hand to see if I can see the blood pumping through everything.

"Kyle, what are you doing?" Stan asks, laughing slightly.

I look over at him and Kenny, and back at my hand holding Cartman's. Cartman is giving me a weird look. I slowly realize what I'm doing.

"Oh, sorry," I giggle, pushing Cartman's arm away from me and scooting as far as I could to the other side of the couch mattress. Everything was just _really_ funny.

"So, I'm glad I didn't go to work today," I say, trying to start conversation again, "I'm really glad. I'm so happy to have you guys as my friends, I really mean it. It's been for_ever_ since we've hung out and I really appreciate you guys being here while everything sucks. Thanks. Thank you! Thank you… did I say all that outloud? Wow."

Kenny starts laughing at me, "Kyle, this is the first time you've ever smoked?"

"Yeaaaahhh…" I draw out the end of my sentence. My own voice sounds weird to my ears. I giggle again.

"How did he get so high?" Kenny turns to face Stan. Wait, when did they take their jackets off?

Stan shrugs, "I dunno. It was your weed."

"Yeah, but… most people don't feel it the first time."

"Well, we kinda hot boxed my living room, dude. There's a lot of smoke around…"

"Cartmaaaannn…" I draw out the end of my sentence again and giggle at the way it sounds. Mouths are weird. Cartman looks over at me- he almost looks like a cartoon character. "Why aren't you making words… with your mouth?"  
He smiles, the corners of his mouth turning upward, "you mean why aren't I talking?"

"Yeah!" I say enthusiastically.

"I thought you'd enjoy me shutting up," he remarks, unzipping his jacket and removing it, revealing a black t-shirt underneath it. When did he get so thin?

"Noooo…. I never said that!" I shake my head enthusiastically. "Keep talking- your voice sounds cool."

He laughs at me again and leans toward me, "_You_, my little Jew," he looks me up and down once and his smile widens, "are extremely high."

I pause. "I am, aren't I?" I think for a moment about how terrible a person I am for doing illegal substances, then I begin to laugh. "I'm really high. I'm in serious shit." I continue to laugh, and soon, Cartman is laughing with me.

"What are you two laughing about?" Kenny asks, stuffing another handful of potato chips in his mouth.

Through tears and laughter, I manage to answer, "I don't know!"

At that, the four of us all begin to laugh extremely hard, not understanding what is so funny or what exactly we are laughing from. It feels great.

I lie back in the mattress as Stan gets up, "Dude… I'm going to order pizza."

Kenny jumps up and looks at Stan, "Oh my God, you are a genius. Are you picking it up or calling it in?"

"Probably call it in…" Stan's eyes dart around the room quickly. "Kenny… come help me order. I don't think I can read right now."  
Kenny pushes himself off the mattress and follows Stan into the kitchen, leaving Cartman and I alone. I don't particularly care though. I feel way too warm and happy to care at the moment.

I suddenly notice how warm it is in the room, and I unzip my jacket and remove it. I am half tempted to remove my pants as well, but I still remember I'm in mixed company, so I don't. I lie back down and glance up at Cartman, who's sitting next to me, with his knees in his chest.

I can see the line of his spine and shoulder blades through his t-shirt. "Cartman?" I ask nervously.

He turns toward me rather quickly, "Yeah?"

"What're you thinking about?" I smile. I can't help but find this whole situation rather amusing.

"Why?" he asks, smiling back. I can tell he's teasing me.

I sit up quickly and cross my arms in a childish manner, "I wanna knowww…"

He laughs again and looks me in the eyes, "I'm thinking about how great music would be right now."

I stop pouting and think about what he said. "Hey, you're right." My voice sounds so weird to my own ears… I wonder what music would sound like.

Ten minutes later, Kenny and Stan return to the living room, and see Cartman and I huddled around Stan's laptop (which I had retrieved from his room after falling up the stairs multiple times, Cartman laughing all the while), blasting music from the built-in speakers.

Kenny smirks and crosses his arms. "What are the two of you doing?"

I look down and see just how close Cartman and I are. Our thighs are touching and I'm leaning into his lap slightly, trying to read Stan's music on the computer. I push myself back quickly as a pleasant feeling begins to warm me, starting from my cheeks and ears and radiating all the way through my toes.

What the hell is going on? Is this normal 'high' behavior?

"We were looking at Stan's faggy music choices. I had to go on the Internet to find the songs I wanted," Cartman coolly retorts. I'm amazed that even while he's intoxicated, he can retain his snarky attitude. However this thought is far too complex at the moment and I just play with my shirt tail. The blues are just so bright.

Kenny plops down between Cartman and I and looks over Cartman's shoulder, eventually sneering and asking in disdain, "Radiohead? You wanted to listen to _Radiohead_?"

"Yeah, what of it?" Cartman says, then he breaks out laughing. "Hey, remember when I got that Scott Tenorman back all those years ago, and I got Radiohead to come see him cry?" He beams, like he's still very proud of that moment.

"You mean when you cut up his parents into chili? Isn't Scott still in the mental hospital?" Stan asks, leaning against the wall and crossing his arms.

"Yeah. He fucking deserved it," Cartman smiles again and turns the volume louder on Stan's computer. I can't help but giggle again. Stan glances over at me.

"Dude… are you doing alright?"

I nod enthusiastically and move away from Kenny and Cartman. "I'm great! This is really unexpected… everything I'm thinking I say outloud. And colors are really bright. And music sounds… amazing. Wow."

Stan smiles at me, "I'm glad you're having fun."

My mouth drops open as I realize something, "How long does this last?"

This time, it's Kenny that turns toward me and tilts his head to the side, smiling widely. "_Forever_."

I spurt again with laughter and horror at the same time, "This can't last forever! You're lying to me!"

Kenny shakes his head, "No, this really lasts forever."

"No!"

"Yes it does. Tell him, Stan."

I look between the two of them. They can't be serious. Really? Forever? That sounds like a long time. I look back at Stan—surely he's kidding.

"He's right Kyle. You'll be like this the rest of your life. Nothing will be the same," Stan smiles. No. They have to be lying. Really?

I suddenly feel like crying, "No! No! It can't really last forever!"

Kenny and Stan are laughing at me as Radiohead continues blaring in the background. Suddenly, the music is turned down and Cartman is standing up behind me. "Guys, cut it out, you're really freaking us out."

Stan's laughter dies down and he looks over toward the kitchen. "I want some fucking Reece's. Kenny, you in?"

Kenny smirks at the two of us, then waltzes out of the room into the kitchen before Stan can say a word edgewise. I feel like Kenny probably was hinting at something with that smile of his, but I can't remember what he said to me earlier… even though I feel like it was important. Stan gets up (almost tripping over his chair in the process) and follows him. Leaving Cartman and I alone. Again. This time, I look up at him, and notice he's looking down at me.

"What's up?" I ask. Wait- why do I care what he's thinking about? I must still be really high. It's only been like… forty-five minutes… will this really be forever?

Cartman slightly smiles at me. "Choose some music."

Normally, I would probably argue. Wonder why he's letting me do something like that. He probably wouldn't normally, either. But, I feel pretty awesome right now, and in this cartoony good-smelling universe, I don't particularly care if he has some maliciousness behind his actions.

Therefore, I sit down on the couch cushions on the floor again, and scroll through the music options. In another minute, I'm blaring Jets to Brazil's 'Typed for Miles' and lying down on the cushion, Cartman sitting beside me. Between the guitar riffs, the drums, and the singer's melancholy tone and sad lyrics, it sounds like heaven exploded in my eardrums.

"This is _awesome_," Cartman says happily, looking down at me. I turn to face him, sinking further into the cushions. A wave of tiredness comes over me. I vaguely notice my hat falling off my head, onto the cushion behind me and releasing my red curls, but I don't really care.

I notice Cartman staring at me again. "What?" I ask, tilting my head quizzically, causing my curls to graze my face.

He remains silent. Is he angry or something? He doesn't look mad.

"What's on your mind?" I ask again, smiling. I can't help but feel giddy right now, even though the look on his face is worrying. I feel kind of dizzy.

He leans toward me. Cartman slowly raises his arm and tucks the one red lock hanging in front of my eyes behind my ear. Warmth is radiating from his fingertips as he traces the side of my face and my cheekbone. He's so warm… it feels so good.

I close my eyes and let him continue touching me. "What… are you doing?" I ask as quietly as I can manage.

"Making sure you're real," he comments quietly, as he moves his hand onto the top of my head and vaguely scratches my scalp like I'm a dog. He doesn't speak again for what seems like forever, "Some people… hallucinate on weed. It's a random rare effect."

"I'm pretty sure I'm real," I reply, remaining completely still so as he can continue touching me. Afraid that if I move, I will break this illusion. I feel so good.

I haven't felt this relaxed in so long… life just gets so difficult and annoying sometimes. Everything just feels good right now, yet, I feel my cheeks warming up more than they already were. I open my eyes and I'm met with Cartman, a measly foot away from me.

Who is this person touching me and looking at me? Is it really the boy I've known forever and despised?

Our thighs are touching again and he pauses moving his hand on my head as he looks me in the eyes. The brown in his seem to go on forever. Are there any answers in there?

I feel tired again and lie back onto the cushion, slightly curling up so he can continue touching my head. I close my eyes. The top of my head is touching his thigh now. His fingers trail the outside of my ear and I shiver.

I can't tell if it's because of the weed or if, in fact, Cartman is making me feel so good.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

I awoke in the middle of the night, not quite able to remember what happened the night before. I scratch my head and glance at the ceiling, rubbing my eyes. I remember that I was sleeping at Stan's house. I'm in his living room, and it's dark, and Eric Cartman's thigh is my pillow.

It feels as if I am hit with a thunderbolt as I sit upright and stare down at his sleeping body in disbelief.

Why the fuck was I lying on him?! WHY? Why is he even fucking here?!

After running through the day's events before very quickly, I remember Kenny had weed. And I smoked it. And I'm a dumb fuck.

As my eyes adjust to the darkness, I continue watching Cartman. He looks so much more innocent when he's sleeping. I feel my cheeks heat up, so I try to stand up through a fuzzy head and tangled feet. Eventually, I regain my balance and look down at Cartman again. He's snoring lightly- I can't help but smile. I remember, even when we were kids, he snored.

I turn my back on him and blindly walk through piles of cushions to reach the stairs. After many missteps and much cursing, I grab onto the railing and begin to walk up the stairs. I figure it's safer to sleep in Stan's room… Where did Stan and Kenny go anyway? I don't remember where they ended up last night. And besides, I'm just lucky I woke up while it was still dark so Kenny and Stan wouldn't see us and…

I feel my face heat up remembering where _exactly_ my head was when I was sleeping. It's better no one saw that.

As I reach the top of the stairs, I notice a light on at the end of the hall. I think that room is Mr. Marsh's study… I'd never been inside it, but it's right across the hall from the bathroom so I'd glanced in a few times. But the Marsh's aren't home. Who could be in there?

Curious, I walk to the end of the hall and put my ear up to the door. Dim light is streaming out from under it—I hear someone flick a lighter from the other side of the door. I knock quietly.

"Yeah?" It's Kenny.

I turn the knob and push open the door, and am greeted by Kenny sitting on the windowsill with (what I assume is) a joint. _Breakfast Club_ taught me something useful.

"You're awake?" he asks, his eyes widening as smoke trails out of his mouth and nose. He coughs slightly.

"I could say the same thing to you," I yawn and walk into the room. I walk past the bookshelves and desk, and sit on the floor in front of Kenny. The smell of weed engulfs my senses as Kenny takes another drag.

He holds out the joint to me but I shake my head. I think I could probably get a contact high just from being in here anyway. I look up at him, and notice his right eye socket is slightly swollen. "Kenny, what happened to your eye?"

"Remember Cartman socked me earlier?" he replies flatly, exhaling smoke again. Oh, right. That feels like it happened forever ago. Weed does that to you, I guess.

"Yeah… why did he hit you again?" I ask. I really can't seem to remember.

"Because I was teasing him about offering for you to live with him."

My mind freezes for a second. Wait, Cartman offered for me to live with him?

"Well, technically," Kenny continues as his joint burns, the smoke swirling around him and slowly rising to the ceiling, "he offered up _all_ our houses. But it was odd for him to do that. So I was just provoking him for fun… basically."

"Oh," I remember now. It was after the meeting with my mom. I'm living with Stan now, right. I feel kind of like Kenny just pulled me back down to earth. I look up at my friend again and notice how bloodshot his eyes are.

"So why aren't you sleeping?" I ask him.

He doesn't answer right away. Instead, he absently looks about the room, his hair falling in his face.

"Well…" he says after a minute, "since you already know about how I get flashes of what Cartman sees during the day when I sleep, I figure it's best for me to keep my nose out of his business for a bit… since last time he got my eye." He smiles, but his face looks pained. Maybe Cartman gave him a black eye.

"Don't worry," he adds after seeing the concerned look on my face. "I'm a fast healer."

I remain quiet as he takes another hit. His joint has almost diminished to nothing now.

"Anyway… I figure I can just remain really baked for a bit, and eventually I'll fall asleep out of exhaustion. I see more of Cartman's shit if it's just regular sleep, but if I deprive myself of sleep for a bit, then crash, I feel like there's less chance of it happening."

I want to remind Kenny what we learned in Psychology—that when your body is deprived of REM sleep for a night, your body makes up for it next time you sleep and you end up dreaming a lot more. However, I feel like since Kenny's body is anything but normal, those rules might not apply.

Kenny flicks the last of his burning joint out the window and sighs-- the earthy smell of weed still lingers in the room. My mind wanders back to earlier, when I was walking toward the car with Stan, Kenny and Cartman. I remember the principal seemed to be on my side about my mom, and I told my mom I'd be back in a week… This will be a fun week. It's only Saturday morning, not even daylight, and I've already hung out with my friends more than I had in the last two years.

I stand up and walk over to Kenny sitting on the windowsill. He moves his legs and I sit down, looking down on the snowy streets of South Park. I try to think about everything that has happened and my head begins to ache.

"Kenny…" I begin, knowing that my friend is indeed very high, but I figure it's worth it to start a conversation. "When did we begin to drift apart? I mean the four of us. It used to always be about you, me, Cartman and Stan. What happened?"

"I don't know…" Kenny closes his eyes and slowly opens them again, seeming to be staring at nothing. "Things just change. People drift apart. You know that."

"Yeah…" I close my eyes. The grays and blues of my inner eyelids seem to echo my dark feelings. "But not us."

There was a long silence. "It was when freshman year ended." Kenny says.

I open my eyes and look over at him.

"That summer, we didn't see each other that much. Then, when sophomore year started, you got really into your grades. I got really into my drugs and various girls," he smirks slightly at that, "Stan and Wendy got back together after being broken up for almost a year."

Kenny rummages through one of his pockets and pulls out a rubber band. My mind wanders to the fourth member of our group he failed to mention.

"What about Cartman?" I ask when he doesn't continue. He holds his hair back with one hand and twists the rubber band around it with the other, putting his hair in a stubby, messy ponytail. He then faces me.

"That was when the 'Cartman glimpses' thing got bad. Like, they'd happened before, but not very frequently, so I just assumed they were fucked up dreams. Then I realized they were all from Cartman's point of view…"

"…during our sophomore year," he continues quietly, "his mom broke down. I see this one thing a lot when I sleep, I think because Cartman thinks about it a lot."

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

I push open my front door and am greeted with the sound of my mom's orgasmic moans and a male's grunting. Welcome home Eric.

I shut the door behind me and kick off my snow-covered shoes. The sounds echo from the kitchen, so I decide it's better to just go into my room. I have some Cheezy Poofs under my bed anyway.

I hear my mom. "Oh god- fuck me! Yes! YES!"

I walk up the stairs and slam my room door behind me, proclaiming my arrival in the house. I open my laptop and go to my music folder, choosing The Offspring and putting it on shuffle. I spin the volume dial on my speakers to max and let the blaring sounds of the guitar, bass, drums engulf me.

I throw myself onto my bed and just listen for about a minute, waiting, until I hear raised voices from the kitchen.

"…Christ Liane, that kid is always causing trouble for us!"

"I'll try talking to him—no please Josh! Don't leave!"

I hear a door slam and can't help but smirk slightly. There is a banging noise as someone runs up the stairs. My mom bursts open my door and throws a slipper in the general direction of my bed. I get up and turn down the music, facing my mother.

"Eric, do you have to play your music so loudly?" she says, her face slightly red, probably from a combination of sex and anger. I notice this time she at least bothered to put on a robe. "I was busy-

"Fucking somebody," I finish bluntly. I'm not in the mood to deal with this again. This has happened every day for the last three months. I have no patience.

"Eric, do not speak to me that way! You know that's what mommy does with her friends-

"When I get home from school and hear some guy slamming you into the microwave, you can't expect me to want to ask him to dinner."

Her other slipper comes flying at me and hits me straight in the face. It barely stings as I continue to stare at her barely-clothed frame.

"Eric, I have told you over and over- if you don't like it, you can just hang out with your friends after school for a few hours. This is what I do-

"Yeah mom, you're a notorious whore."

She sighs and pushes her graying hair back. "Let me have a little happiness Eric," she says in defeat, "Everything else you've taken away. No one in this town wants anything to do with me anymore after all your stupid escapades. They all know of me as the bad mother of Eric Cartman- the rude little brat. All the men I see keep leaving me once they realize that not only do I have a son, but it's YOU."

I've heard this before. I've heard her dumb complaints. I don't even care enough to reply this time.

She turns like she's going to leave, then turns back toward me, "One day Eric, I'm going to leave you. You think you're old enough to act like you don't love me and you're not my family? Fine. You can take care of _all of this_," she raises her hands in exasperation, "by _yourself_."

I roll my eyes. "You want go to live with one of your many fuck buddies? Go right ahead. I'm sick of coming home from school every day and hearing you fuck someone else. Doesn't your cunt need some time to leak out all the backed up semen?"

She remains quiet for a moment. I can't help but feel nothing. Nothing. When I look at this woman, I don't feel love, I don't feel hate, I feel nothing. She is nothing to me. She's not there when I need her, she doesn't take the time to support me, and she blames me whenever someone dumps her sorry ass.

"That's it," she replies after a minute. "You get to take care of yourself. Buy your own food, take care of your room. For now, instead of family, we are roommates. And one day we won't even be that."

With that, she leaves me alone in my room.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

After Kenny finishes telling me what the dream looks like, I feel my stomach doing somersaults.

"After that… he stopped seeing her as much. She was around but they didn't exactly talk. Then… as you know, this year, she just… left. He has a bank account she opened for him when he was young that he's basically been living off of—

"What did Cartman act like? These last two years. What did he do?" I can't remember him. I can't remember what he was doing while I was studying. It's like he dropped out of my life completely.

"He skipped school a lot. Spent a lot of time by himself. I don't know much about that." Kenny closes his eyes like he's trying to remember. "I mostly got glimpses of bike trails and rivers and bridges. I don't know where or what he was doing most of the time."

I remain quiet for a moment as I run through everything I just heard again. His mom got tired of dealing with him… so she up and left. This has been going on the entire time I'd been told by my mom to study study study.

So, while I was alone and miserable because of my mom, he was too.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

I bid Kenny goodnight and retreat into Stan's dark room. His analog alarm clock says it's five in the morning. Thank god I don't have school tomorrow. After removing my pants and I'm down to a t-shirt and boxers, I crawl into the comforter on the floor Stan placed next to my bag, and close my eyes.

Even though tonight was completely crazy, I can't help but be happy. I have my friends back. I am not at my house. And I didn't have to wear a dress with heels today. At this point, it's a blessing.

/\/\

/\/\/\/\/\

/\/\

AN: So for some reason, in all my chapters on my story, my indents separating point of view shifts and such have vanished. I don't know why.

THANK YOU PEOPLE WHO HAVE CONTINUED TO REVIEW AND WATCH ME. And thank you those who messaged me wishing me well and hoping for an update. I just finished one of my finals and finally found the time to write this. Hopefully it was worth the wait… now more things will make sense within the story.

My summer starts in a week, so I'll definitely be updating more during it. Sorry again for the wait. Lots of crap happens in art school.

Much Love, OR


	17. Contemplating

Waiting on an Enemy

Author: OnigiriReject

Summary: Kyle is spotted working his job as a waitress by none other than Cartman. Will Cartman keep his secret? And what's with that smile of his?

Pairings: KyCart with undertones of Stendy.

~South Park and all characters belong to Matt Stone and Trey Parker, I'm just borrowing them for a little fun. ~

/\/\

Chapter Seventeen: Contemplating

/\/\

"Good morning Kahl," the voice causes me to jump slightly as I sleepily enter the Marsh's kitchen. Light is streaming through the windows. I can smell coffee being brewed as I glance around the kitchen, looking for the source of the greeting. My eyes land on none other than Eric Cartman, sitting at the Marsh's dining room table with Kenny in the room over.

"Nice boxers," Kenny remarks with a grin as he turns to look at me. I look down quickly and realize I'm wearing basically nothing except a white t-shirt and boxers. And the boxers happened to be my dumb pair of pirate boxers- complete with skull and crossbones on the crotch. I feel very exposed. After mumbling something about not being awake, I quickly run back up the stairs to Stan's room and begin to rummage through my duffle bag (throwing many of my clothes about the room in the process) in order to find something more appropriate.

I mean yeah, I'd seen my friends in nothing before, but it had been years, and frankly, I especially did not want _Cartman_ (of all people) to see me in my pirate boxers I'd gotten for Hanukah a few years back. Even though… he'd probably already seen them. Shit.

Then I ran upstairs… God how fucking stupid can I be? I pick up the wad of clothes I was just looking through and throw it to the other side of Stan's room.

WHY AM I SO FUCKING STUPID? My face is bright red. Why the hell do I even care? I shouldn't have run upstairs. I should have just played it off. Now they'll all know I'm embarrassed. Shit. Shit shit shit.

After about ten minutes of self-loathing and two outfit changes, I return downstairs in a dark pair of jeans and a black turtleneck. The more covered-up I am around Cartman, the better. However, my hat seems to have gone MIA in the last few hours, as I can't find it in Stan's room, and I can't quite remember where I lost it.

As I reach the kitchen again, Stan is pouring coffee into four separate cups, and Kenny and Cartman are bickering as usual. I'm hoping they won't remark about my brief retreat upstairs.

"Hey dude," I say to Stan. He glances over his shoulder at me and grins.

"Hey yourself. It's almost noon," he walks back to the fridge and pulls out a carton of Half and Half.

"Yeah well I didn't really sleep until five-ish," I reply, keeping my eyes low. I am still kind of out of it- I don't quite remember why I stayed up so late last night. I was talking to Kenny while he was smoking… so maybe that has something to do with my vague memory loss. A contact high.

I look over at the counter where Stan abandoned the coffee cups and reflexively grab them, and, holding one in each hand, begin to walk over to the dining room table where Cartman and Kenny are arguing about something.

"Shut up Kenny, I'm just hung-over," Cartman snaps at Kenny. He looks up as I walk between him and Kenny, and place a coffee cup in front of each of them. I turn on my heel without a word and walk back into the kitchen to retrieve the next two cups.

As I walk back toward the table, I begin to realize I am walking with one foot in front of the other, much like I do when I'm wearing heels and serving people as Kylie. When I'm being a _waitress_.

Stan walks into the room as I stand frozen in front of the table, flustered by the way I was walking. Kenny and Cartman are staring at me. Kenny is smirking slightly but Cartman, if anything, looks just as flustered as I feel.

"Kyle, you didn't have to bring them to the table! I was just about to," Stan says from behind me.

"Sorry… instinctual…" I mumble, my cheeks red. How do I walk normally? Do I stomp? How do normal boys walk? Fuck. I've been standing here too long. I quickly take two long strides to the table in order to hide my failed walking attempts, and practically slam the coffee mugs onto the table, almost spilling their insides in the process. Kenny begins to snicker—I shoot him a look and he shuts up.

Stan places the cream on the table, "Does anyone take sugar?" he asks, making a move back toward the kitchen.  
"I do…" I say quietly, suddenly very tired. Am I just hung-over as well from the weed? I pull out the chair across from Cartman and next to Kenny and practically fall into it, my head reeling. Stan returns with a sugar bowl and spoon and sits in the final empty chair, glancing at me.

"Dude, are you still tired? You only got like six hours of sleep…" he looks worried.

"I'll be fine," I reply, reaching for the sugar bowl. A curl of red hair falls into my face and I cringe, remembering my lack of hat. "Hey… do you guys know where my hat went?"

"In the living room," Cartman replies quickly. I look up and meet his eyes—he looks down at his coffee quickly. Why is his face red?

I scoot the chair out from underneath me and walk into the living room, where the bong, the laptop, and all the cushions still lie strewn across the floor. Sure enough, my hat was behind the cushions in front of Stan's laptop. My bare feet feel the cloth of the cushions as I walk across them to reach my trusty hat. Suddenly, I stop.

I remember now. Last night… I woke up and my head was on Cartman's thigh. When I was high… my hat fell off… and Cartman was playing with my hair. I try to make sense of this thought. I didn't dream it. My hat is indeed here, right behind where I awoke to find my head resting on my enemy.

Why… did that happen?

No more smoking for me.

I walk back into the kitchen, now wearing my hat, and the shade of my face is nothing short of a tomato. I catch the end of Stan speaking.

"-don't you have better things to talk about than girls?" Stan rolls his eyes and sips from his coffee mug. I sit down in the empty seat and stir my coffee again.

"We could talk about drugs," Kenny offered, grinning with amusement. He shoots me a look and I quickly pick up my mug and take a large gulp of coffee. It's still warm.

Cartman rolls his eyes, "God damn Kenny, you're so fucking boring."

"Well excuse me for talking about what NORMAL guys talk about. Just because you guys are so freaking gay that you don't want to talk about pussy isn't my fault- excluding Stan."

"I could punch you again, Kenny," Cartman offers, shooting Kenny a look of complete loathing. "That black eye looks like it's going away pretty quickly."

I snicker at that. Kenny turns to look at me, his blue eyes transformed into angry slits. "I see _you_ don't protest me calling you _both_ gay."

"I see you don't protest Cartman hitting you in the face," I reply, smirking at him. It was about time I got some revenge on him for all the stupidity he's caused me in Angel Morte.

"Well, I can see what kind of friends you guys are. Cartman- I've done you so many favors. I was the one who set you up with that waitress," I swear Kenny's eyes dart quickly over to me and back. I gulp and feel my cheeks heat up. He wouldn't. "And I was the one who provoked you into making out with her. Gosh, I'm just such an awful friend that I deserve to be hit for all the nice things I've done for your relationshi-

At that, I quickly bring my bare foot upward and slam it down on Kenny's foot in order to get him to shut the fuck up. "Shit!" He yells, looking wildly between Cartman and I. "Why the fuck are you two ganging up on me? Shouldn't you be fighting each other?"

He has a point. My face contorts in anger and I reply much more loudly than I should, "Shouldn't _you_ stop being such a major _asshole_?" I reply snottily, "Next time, I'll aim higher and hit you where it really hurts you dumb ass."

The room grows quiet as my three friends all look at me. Soon, they all break into laughter, including Kenny. "Wow Kyle, that's the first time I've heard you that angry in a while," Stan says, wiping a tear from his eye.

Cartman continues to laugh as Kenny smiles at me and says, "Congratulations Kyle, you grew a pair. I'm kidding, I'm kidding!" he puts his hands up in defense as I raise my coffee mug in a fashion that looks like I'll hit him with it.

"Now you guys see why I piss him off so often, it's really fucking funny," Cartman says through spurts of laughter, his face turning red. I can't help but smile at the three of them.

"Yeah well…" I begin, not really knowing what to say, "the point is learn your lesson Kenny and shut up." I take another sip of coffee and let my friends settle down a bit.

"Anyway Kyle," Stan says. I glance at him over my mug, "Do you have work today? Because I think you and I have some homework that needs to get done-

"Oh Christ, I'm not doing homework today," Cartman buts in, bringing his coffee mug to his nose and sniffing it, something I remember seeing him do many a time in Angel Morte.

"Well you two weren't invited," Stan replies, smiling. "As I remember, every time the four of us have homework to do, you two end up playing videogames, looking at porn, and specifically Cartman harasses Kyle, and _we_ end up doing all the work."

More like I end up doing all the work, but I see Stan's point.

"Fine, fine, we'll leave after breakfast," Kenny says, tucking some of his blond hair behind his ear and looking at Cartman. "And besides, we have more fun shit to do before our Saturday is over."

I can swear I see a look in Kenny's eyes that means he's up to something, but I shake it off. I doubt it has anything to do with me anyway.

"So, do you have work today?" Cartman asks, narrowing his eyes at me.

"Probably…" I reply cautiously. "I'll go find out."

I stand up and walk into the kitchen holding my half-full coffee mug, leaving my friends sitting at the table again.

/\/\/\

It rings twice and soon, I hear my boss pick up the other line.

"Hello, you have called Angel Morte, the place where all your fantasies can come true! This is the manager speaking," he says with his thick Japanese accent.

I pitch my voice up a little before answering, "Hello Mr. Yamamoto, this is Kylie. I know I probably signed myself in for a shift today, but could I please take today off-

"Oh Kylie!" His voice booms in my ear before I can finish my question. "Of course you can. You've accumulated so many sick days, you can take at least a full week off at this point!"

"Well, I'll come to work first thing tomorrow morning and help open up the restaurant. I really only need to take today off."

"It's completely fine Kylie, don't worry. Actually Miss Kylie," he adds, dropping his voice. He whispers into the phone, "Are you missing work to go on a date with that nice boyfriend of yours? You can tell me-

"Thanks-Mr.-Yamamoto-but-I-have-to-go-tend-to-my-sick-friend-k-bye," I say as quickly as possible and hang up. I really didn't even want to _imagine_ that scenario in my head when he mentioned it, let alone have him embellish upon it further in conversation.

I take another gulp of coffee and walk back into the dining room, where Stan was clearing his and Kenny's mugs while belittling him.

"Come on Ken, you could at least try to do your homework for Monday instead of relying on copying Bebe's…" Stan says, his hazel eyes cast on the coffee mugs.

Kenny's eyes are hidden by his long blonde bangs as he replies, "I have better things to do." He grins. Stan stands up and takes his and Kenny's mug into the kitchen.

I sit down in my seat and look up just in time to see Cartman watching me.

"What?" I ask quietly, returning his odd gaze.

"Do you have work today?" he asks, frowning slightly. Kenny and Stan don't seem to notice our quiet conversation and continue to tease each other.

"Well maybe Kenny if you actually did the homework you wouldn't just get by in classes."

"You mean the way you do the homework and just get Wendy's and Kyle's help?"

"No… he said I could take today off as well," I say, dropping my voice even lower. I glance up at Stan's wall clock. It's already twelve thirty.

"Oh…" Cartman says. I wait for him to continue. He doesn't. I continue to meet his eyes, yet neither one of us is saying anything. I can't think of anything to say. Why don't I just look away? But then he'd keep looking at me. Now this is just awkward.

"Staring contest?" Kenny asks with a bemused look, facing us. All of a sudden, we both turn away.

"Just shut it Kenny," Cartman mutters. What is going on with me? With him? Is he just thinking about the whole 'touchy Kyle's hair' thing? Or am I just weird and thinking about it a lot?

I reach up and protectively pull my hat down further on my head.

"Well we should probably go!" Kenny says a little loudly, his chair's legs screeching against the floorboard as he pushes it out from underneath him. "Lots to do today!"

It takes Cartman another second to stand. I look up at him, still holding the flaps on my trapper hat. He doesn't meet my gaze, and instead seems more interested in his shoes.

A few more awkward minutes pass and soon the four of us are standing in the Marsh's living room, facing the door. Myself specifically facing Cartman's back.

Kenny's face splits into a smile, "See you guys later. Probably tomorrow. Have fun with homework," he waves briefly as he pushes open the door and exits. Cartman mutters something like, "later assholes," and follows him, not even looking up.

"Bye…" I say lamely, watching Kenny and Cartman's backs as they close the front door behind them. A quietness falls over Stan and I as he turns around and begins to head upstairs.

"I'm gonna go find my math textbook so we can start on the homework," he calls over his shoulder at me and continues walking up the stairs until he's out of sight.

I am suddenly aware of just how alone I am as I look around the living room. We'd left the cushions all over the floor from the night previous. I sigh and stand up, grabbing some of the couch cushions and putting them back on the sofa where they belonged.

"Kyle," I hear Stan's voice call from the floor above, "Could you come up here?"

"Yeah, give me a second," I yell back, throwing the last of the pillows onto the couch. I begin to trot up the stairs, and soon, I reach the doorway of Stan's room.

"What's up?" I ask when I walk in. Stan's back is facing me. Soon enough, he turns around, and is holding my black Angel Morte waitress dress. Complete with the frills, lace, bows and petticoat.

"Would you like to explain as to why you have an outfit from that freaky Hooters place?"

/\/\/\

It's a hard situation to be in when someone you never thought about much understands you better than your own best friend. I mean yeah, Stan and I have drifted apart in recent years, but I never thought that out of the three people I've known forever, Cartman would be the one I never have to explain myself to.

It's always been in his personality to sort of take things as they come. Be it ridiculous, outlandish or just plain stupid, he never really questioned situations.

Well, he was angry when he first realized I was the girl working at Angel Morte that he'd spoken to on numerous occasions, but he never really gave me the nineth degree like Stan did.

It took two hours of explaining to tell Stan why I was working at Angel Morte. Why I agreed to wear a waitress uniform and serve drunken frat boys. Why I agreed to also serve Cartman, and why he caught me bra shopping with Wendy. And then why I decided it was a good idea not to tell him.

"It was mostly out of embarrassment… and I was desperate to keep the job," I add, trying to convince Stan. He looks more concerned than anything, but I can detect a hint of anger underneath his worried eyes.

"Didn't it occur to you that I, as your friend, would have kept your secret, and, as your friend, not judge you and also understand, because I am your FRIEND, why you did it?" he asks slowly, deliberately accenting the word friend.

I have to admit… maybe my judgment was clouded by the stupidity of always serving Cartman.

"I'm…" I begin, trying to find an excuse. There isn't one. "…sorry," I conclude, looking down. Now I'm more embarrassed than if he'd caught me actually changing into the outfit.

Stan sighs and falls back onto his bed, the mattress underneath him creaking. "Still… I can't believe you were that redheaded waitress…"

I perk up at that, "What do you mean?"

He sighs again, "I knew Wendy was working at that slutty restaurant. I followed her one day and looked in the windows…

The only reason I didn't protest is because I trust her to handle herself. And, since you were also working there, I kinda trusted you to watch over her a little… although it sounds like she's been watching out for you more." He smirks at that.

I can't help but smile. "She really is a great girl, Stan."

"I know," he replies happily with his love-struck smile. I really did miss Stan.

"Although," he continues, frowning slightly, "Did you say you are now Cartman's waitress only? Like he requests you?"

"Yeah. Mostly just to torment me and enjoy the fact he has a Jew to be his personal slave, I think," or something like that. I don't know really… I used to think that. But now it's just gotten so much more complicated.

"So you're his waiter… waitress, exclusively?" he asks, looking like he's thinking hard. He scratches his black topped head.

"Yeah. I tried to pass him off to one girl but Cartman just got really mad."

"So… who's the waitress he supposedly made out with? The one Kenny said that he set him up with?"

I feel the color drain out of my face as Stan stares at me quizzically. I have to swallow a few times to make my throat wet enough to speak. "Do you promise again… that, as my friend, you won't judge me?"

/\/\/\

Sunday morning, and I'm back at Angel Morte. Since Mr. Yamamoto agreed to let me have yesterday off, I figured I should come here as early as possible as a thank-you. It'll look good to the employer or whatever.

The only good thing that came out of Stan finally finding out my afterschool job is that now I can just put on my maid outfit at his house, and wear a coat over it on the bus until I get to work. This way, I don't have to worry about the girls walking out the fire exit and seeing me changing in the alley.

I sigh as I begin to flip the chairs off the tables and place them on the tiled floor, trying my best not to trip over my high heeled-feet in the process. Yesterday was just a mess on every level.

Trying to explain the waitress thing to Stan…That was the most awkward conversation of my life. Including every single conversation from fourth grade beginning with, "You know, I learned something today," and the conversation with Cartman after we kissed in front of everyone at Angel Morte the first time.

/\/\/\

"_You WHAT?"_

"_Yeah that's the same reaction Wendy had."_

_He remains silent a moment, and barely moves. Had he been a toy, I would have wondered if his batteries wore out. Suddenly, he jumps up with a look of anger in his eyes._

"_I'll just kill him then," he says matter-of-factly, and begins to head out of the room. I lunge for him and manage to grab his foot, causing him to try and shake me._

"_Come on Stan! You can't be that mad-_

"_I fed him and let him in my house and he's been doing this sort of shit to you when you really needed a friend? He's an awful person Kyle, you know that. And the only thing I can do now is try and knock some sense into him the only way an idiot like him can understand." He cracks his knuckles. "Taking advantage of your sexuality even…"_

"_What?" I exclaim, pulling him back toward me. He meets my eyes and looks down, slightly ashamed. "What do you mean… my 'sexuality'?"_

_He's quiet another moment and I move my hand off his foot. He sits down next to me on the bed._

"_Stan?" I ask._

"_I mean… you're gay, aren't you?" he asks quietly._

"_I'm what?" I can't believe he just said that._

"_You're… gay," he says, sounding slightly confused. Hell, I'm confused too._

"_How long… have you thought I was gay?" I ask him, barely believing I heard him correctly._

"_I've had a feeling since we were younger, but you've never really shown any interest in girls. That's partially why the bra incident with Wendy hit me so hard—I thought for a while that maybe you'd had a crush on Wendy all this time and that's why you hadn't gone after other girls. But that was stupid," he adds sheepishly. "I just… assumed." He tilts his head and looks at me quizzically, his messy black hair following the movement. _

"_Was I wrong?" he asks, looking like he didn't mean to insult me. And he didn't. But this is still hard._

_I don't say anything for a while. I just think. Why is it that calling me gay doesn't bother me so much? _

_I mean, saying it's not true feels like a lie… but am I really just gay? Like, capital G homosexual? This would explain why I've always felt slightly alienated from the other guys… and why Cartman has always picked on that part of me. Maybe they all picked up something in me I failed to see._

_Am I gay?_

_I mull it over for a second and try to get used to the word. It is a possibility. It would explain not only the alienation, but why I didn't feel so completely emasculated when I had to wear the waitress dress, and adapted to it so well… Come to think of it, would a completely straight boy do ANY of the things I've done, including let Cartman kiss me? Wouldn't most guys (no matter how desperate) never ever cross dress?_

_Not only that, but most guys figure out their sexuality around ages twelve to fifteen, and that was about the same time my home life got so stressful I didn't have time to think about romantic crap. And then this._

_Wouldn't I have protested more to dressing up as a girl if I was straight? I mean, yeah I was completely miserable and desperate for a way out of my situation…_

_I would be lying if I said I never thought about kissing a guy… but I've also thought about kissing girls. It's just been a while. Maybe I just prefer guys. But does it matter? I should like whoever I like and not give a damn as to their gender… Have I ever really liked anybody? Seriously? _

…_No. I haven't. There's too much stupid shit in my life to have time to think about liking someone or not. I guess that's not normal though._

_God dammit._

"_How is it…" I start, staring intently at the floor. "That I'm the last one to figure anything out about myself?" I close my eyes in frustration and try to block out my confused thoughts._

_I feel Stan's hand gently touch my shoulder and rub my back in a comforting gesture. "I'm sorry," he says, "I shouldn't have brought it up."_

"_No…" I reply, "It's fine. I mean, I just don't know. I don't really like the label and I can't really think of myself really liking anybody right now anyway… even though it's normal for a teenage male to think about people sexually, I certainly don't. I don't know, maybe there's something wrong with me?"_

_He doesn't reply, but continues to rub my back. It is making me feel slightly better, I must admit._

_Finally, he quietly answers, "How do you feel about Cartman?" _

_I open my eyes and look at him. I could swear Kenny and Wendy have asked me the same question, "Oh no, not you too—_

"_Seriously Kyle. You let him kiss you-_

"_I was desperate!"  
"And from the sound of it, after hearing about it over and over at school and from you just now, you fucking kissed him back! Cartman! Eric Cartman!"  
"I know!" I practically yell at my friend, causing his hand to retreat from my back. I feel my cheeks heat up in embarrassment—I absolutely hate being reminded of this. "You don't have to remind me!"_

_My best friend closes his eyes and pinches the bridge of his nose in exasperation. "Well, it seems like I have to because you seem to be ignoring something very obvious. You said you he kissed you again recently, right?"_

"_Yes!"  
"Well then if you hated that so bad why didn't you just blackmail him into stopping? Or call the security? Or even get Kenny to step in? Or Wendy? There were so many things you could have done instead of let him get away with this!"_

"_I can't think when he's in my face, Stan! You should know this by now—Cartman just gets under my skin and I lose the ability to think properly! It's been like this forever!"_

"_Yes, but before you absolutely hated him, and last night while you were high you were practically falling all over him! You can't stop staring at him in class, and then when you should be happy when the two of you are not speaking, you're basically miserable! I'm not as oblivious as you think, Kyle. You're not happy unless he's around!"_

_I don't reply to this, instead I fall back onto Stan's bed and stare at his ceiling for a bit, trying to calm my temper. I know Stan isn't trying to piss me off, I'm just so annoyed at this. At all of this._

_But then again, how do I feel about Cartman?  
Another minute passes and Stan sighs and falls down next to me, looking at the chipped paint on his ceiling as well. There are vague outlines of the glow in the dark stars and planets he used to stick on it._

"_Cartman…" I begin, sighing. "is Cartman is Cartman. That's all. You are Stan and Kenny is Kenny. There is no feeling toward you guys because I've known you all so long that you've just become like family. Even Cartman, in a weird way. Especially now. Don't go and blame him for all the shit that's happened to me at that dumb restaurant anyway, I mean, I could have handled the situation better anyway."_

_Stan nods and turns his head to face me, placing both hands behind his head._

"_Well, even if you are gay or whatever, you're my best friend. Cool? I won't tell anyone about this."_

_I smile. "Thanks Stan."_

/\/\/\

"Hey Kylie," Thomas' blonde messy head sticks out of the kitchen with a grin. "I have a break coming up, can you meet me outside?" he jerks slightly and mutters some obscenity under his breath, "There's something that I want to talk about with you."

"Sure, one second," I say slightly absently, being jerked out of my reprieve. I walk to the final table and flip the chair off of it in a similar fashion. I forgot Thomas gets here early as well. Well, he is the chef, so I guess he has to be here when we open anyway…

I enter the back room just in time to see Thomas briskly walking out the fire exit to my familiar alley near the trashcans.

"What's up?" I ask in a high pitched voice as I exit the building.

"Why weren't you at work yesterday?" he asks, his sandy feature falling slightly.

"I wasn't feeling well," I reply quickly. He doesn't look like he believes me.

"Were you on a date with Cartman?" He asks, raising an eyebrow.

"No!" I splutter, "of course not!"

He sighs and sticks his hands in his jeans' pockets nervously. "Well, I heard Mr. Yamamoto talking yesterday and—actually that doesn't matter. Look, he's not good for you and I wish you would consider breaking up with him."  
"What do you mean?" I reply rather curtly. As I recalled from the Valentine's Day dance, this boy seemed to like me. I really didn't want to get too close with him… but he's a nice guy and a good friend to me… so this is just making things complicated. When did I give him the idea I was interested?

"I remember when you had those cuts on the back of you hands after you had a fight with him. And you guys always fight here. You never seem happy when you're talking with him—

"That's just how our relationship works, Thomas," I reply, crossing my arms. I mean, it's true, that's just the way Cartman and I are with each other.

"You also don't seem to like it when he kisses you," he says quietly, taking a step toward me. He furrows his brow. "You should be with someone who treats you the way you deserve to be treated. Like a pretty, funny and smart girl… who I kind of would like to be with," he twitches and curses again. I gulp.

"Thomas?" I ask, smiling nervously. He can't be doing what I think he's doing.

He closes the gap between our bodies by taking another small step toward me. His hands are shaking as he puts on hand under my chin, tilting it upward toward him, and the other on the side of my face. He slowly moves his face into mine and time seems to freeze for a moment.

I think about how different this is than when Cartman kissed me. He insulted me, blackmailed me, then grabbed me and forced my lips onto his. Thomas moves slowly and compliments me, and looks nervous. Granted, Thomas thinks I'm a girl… maybe I do have a gay bend. After all I'm not fighting this.

Thomas' lips press against mine and… I feel nothing. No heat spreading and melting the ice. No heart racing. No hate, no frustration, no clawing. It felt like my mouth was met with a soft pillow that really liked me, but it was a pillow.

Why does this feel so different?

I remember when Cartman kissed me, I felt my heart beating through my entire body, all my skin heated up, and I just felt… content. Could that be why I kissed him back?

My hands reach upward and I place my palms against Thomas' chest, pushing him off before he had a chance to push things further.

"Thomas…" I begin, looking away from his confused face. "I'm sorry, but I am not the person you think I am, and I really just can't be with you. I'm dating… Eric. Can you please accept that? I still want to be friends with you however."

I can practically hear Thomas' heart break as he moves his chest away from my hands. He attempts to hide his face and scratches his head, "Sure… whatever you want. See you at work, alright?"

He quickly pulls the door open and heads inside. I should have known that would hurt him. Damn. However, that's one hurdle I've dealt with.

I, too, head inside and am greeted with Mercedes.

"Kylie! I haven't seen you lately!" she smiles and hugs me brightly. "I have some good news, guess who's here bright and early to see you?"

I smile back as she let's go, and I already know full well who's probably sitting at the familiar booth waiting for me. I walk out of the backroom holding one of the menus and heading straight to the familiar brown head and red jacket. My heels clack along the tiled floor and he looks up. We lock eyes—his brown ones watching me walk toward him.

And for some reason, I can't help but smile. And for some odd reason, he smiles back.

/\/\/\/\\

/\/\/\/\\\\\

/\/\/\/\/

Author's Note: In my stupidity, I recently was involved in an accident. On a playground. Where I fell off the merry-go-round, got a five inch bruise that looks suspiciously like the shape of Florida, and I had to get stitches because I also split my skin open to the bone.

Yeah. Moral: Just because you're older on a playground does not mean you're immortal.

Anywho, that's one reason this chapter took so long. The other reason is that is being poopy and has deleted all the indents in my chapters and it's really pissing me off.

So, I went back through this ENTIRE STORY and edited it. Well, most of it, I left off at chapter 12 because it is so tiring. And I was editing some typos I didn't notice and fixing the writing up in some places… but yes, that has been my last few weeks late at night while in pain from the stitches.

Thank you so much every single person who has reviewed. I swear, I'll think "I wonder if anyone has read my story lately?" and I'll get like ten reviews or story alerts in my inbox. It's wonderful to see how many people like this atrocity, even though I get a lot of complaints that it is indeed silly and maybe a little OOC. Oh well. Thank you all so much again, I really do appreciate all of them even though I haven't replied to any lately. Like I said, editing and pain and… aghhh.

So THANKS again!

Also, shout out to Soul Flash who I am collabing on a story on. We started it a while back but we both were so busy with college it died briefly. But we're still doing it, so keep on the lookout! Please go check out her stories if you haven't done so already.

As a note: I really do appreciate all the reviews, and I think they're partially the reason I've become a better writer. People tell me where they get confused in my story and I go fix that and see how it was confusing. So, if there aren't many reviews, writers can't get better or know if they're doing well even!

Another note: if anyone has a story within the SP fanbase that they'd like me to read and give a real opinion on, just please tell me, I'd be happy to do it. I'm a much faster reader than I am a writer. I just want people to not only become better writers, but feel like they are indeed appreciated within the FF community, because I myself greatly appreciate everyone who has this story on alert, or 1.5 MPH, or even my author name.

So thanks to everyone again for helping keep this fanbase alive and well. KyCart forever.

Much love, OR

/\/\/\/


	18. High and Dry

Waiting on an Enemy

Author: OnigiriReject

Summary: Kyle is spotted working his job as a waitress by none other than Cartman. Will Cartman keep his secret? And what's with that smile of his?

Pairings: KyCart with undertones of Stendy.

~South Park and all characters belong to Matt Stone and Trey Parker, I'm just borrowing them for a little fun. ~

/\/\

Chapter Eighteen: High and Dry

/\/\

"Is your coffee to your liking Mr. Eric?" I say through clenched teeth.

"Why yes it is just fine, Kylie. You are such a wonderful _girlfriend_," he emphasizes the word and smiles maliciously.

I place my hands down on the table and cast a quick glance toward the window to the kitchen- Thomas is indeed watching.

"Dammit," I murmur, forgetting briefly my sarcasm battle with Cartman.

"What?" my rival asks from across the table, looking at me quizzically. His face falls once he realizes I'm not playing anymore.

"Before you came in… Thomas tried to ask me out, and… he seemed really hurt when I said no," I start, looking anywhere except at Cartman. My eyes settle on the floor tiles. No way am I telling him that Thomas kissed me, I can only imagine what kind of hell would break loose. He'd probably permanently change my name from 'Jew' to 'Faggot'.

"Well what the fuck do you care? It's not like you like him or anything," Cartman replies huffily.

"Yeah but I feel bad."

"Don't. It's that simple."

I sigh, "Cartman how the hell do you remain so un-phased by other people's feelings?"

"It's a gift," he smugly smiles.

I feel like there was something I meant to tell Cartman. A figurative light bulb goes off in my head and I meet eyes with him, "Oh! Right! Stan!" I exclaim. The brown-haired boy in front of me seems distinctly confused at my outburst, "Yeah, Cartman, Stan found my uniform and now he knows practically everything."

The shade of his face goes from normal, to pale, to vaguely red. "Ever-everything?" he stutters. He seems kind of embarrassed.

"Yeah. I told him that I'm working here," I begin, dropping my voice so the other waitresses can't hear, "He already knew Wendy was working here, and I told him I'm cross-dressing to work here. He found my uniform so I kind of _had_ to-

"Did you tell him… about this?" Cartman motions between him and I quickly. I blink.

"Um…" I start, feeling my stomach tense up. Should I have lied to him about Cartman and I pretend dating? "Yeah. It's not like I wanted to-

At that, Cartman's face turns redder than I'd ever seen it. "You jew! Why the hell did you tell him? Do you think I want people to know I kissed a fag like you?"

A cold icicle filled with anger stabs at my heart. "It's not my fault we kissed to begin with! Kenny put us up to it. Why are you getting so weird about Stan knowing? Kenny knows-

"Kenny knows a lot of things. If I had control of that stupid dream thing, I'd make sure he didn't know any of the shit about my mom, or this place, or about me and you. But _you_ go ahead and actually tell someone about the fact that you and I kissed. We kissed, Kahl, and that is not something I want people to know."

I feel my cheeks heat up. Why is he talking to me like I'm ten? "Well it's not like Stan is going to tell anyone-

"That's not the point! Why _else_ do you think I'm agreeing to keep your secret now? Everyone would find out that I kissed a faggy Jew-

"CAN YOU STOP CALLING ME THAT? God Stan was so fucking right about you! I should've just let him come kick your ass-

"Oh like that girl can kick my ass-

"No, but I can," something white moves in the corner of my eye and before I know what is happening, Wendy Testaburger, wearing her white mini dress, moves in on Cartman and grabs his collar. "Remember last time we fought? I beat you to a bloody pulp. And if you ever call Kyle a fag again, I'll be sure to repay you tenfold. You are even worse than Kenny. You have no respect for anyone's feelings, you're so goddamn selfish and conceited that you don't even seem to notice how you hurt Kyle's feelings you ignorant prick!"

I am speechless. Not only my mouth is dropped open, but so is Cartman's. I bet this was the last thing he expected.

"How about you try being _nice_ for a change, because from what I hear, Kyle is the only person to put up with your bullshit for more than two minutes. And frankly, you should be grateful of that. I don't care how much you're tipping him—if this behavior continues I'll personally make sure you get banned from this restaurant and suspended from school."

With that, retreats her perfectly manicured hand to her side, and walks away from our table, leaving the both of us speechless. Luckily there was no one else in the restaurant to hear Wendy call me a 'he', but that doesn't help my mood. I look back at Cartman and he looks at the floor.

Asshole.

It's six o'clock and my shift is over. Wendy continued to cast worried glances my way the rest of the day, but I pretended like I didn't see. I mean, I appreciate what she did, but I'm really too pissed off at Cartman to think about much else.

I reach my locker and open it, looking in it for a moment. I can't help but feel like some of my things have been moved slightly from this morning, but it's fine. One of the other girls was probably looking for her lipstick or something.

Why did he have to call me a fag? I mean, I'm just now rethinking my sexuality, and then he comes along and uses the most offensive word possible. I close my locker and head for the exit, passing Wendy again and making sure not to look directly at her.

I leave the restaurant, still fully clad in my waitress outfit. The sunset is coloring the sky all sorts of pinks and purples and oranges. It's quite pretty, and since it's not completely dark yet, it won't be too sketchy-

"Hey Kahl," a voice says to my left. I spin toward the source of the noise and scowl, knowing exactly who was addressing me.

"What the fuck do you want Cartman?" I ask, not meeting his eyes. Instead, I settle looking at the rusted down car he's standing next to.

"No politeness, Jew?"

"We're not in the restaurant anymore, _Mr. Eric_," I say in the most seething way possible. "So I don't have to act in a way I don't actually feel."

He says nothing for a moment. Then, he gestures to the beaten up car next to him. "I came to give you a ride home."

I look between him and the car for a moment, then furrow my brows and reply curtly, "Thanks, but I'm taking the bus," with that, I begin to stamp my heels down the pavement toward the bus stop.

"No you're not," he replies, taking two long strides toward me and stepping in my way. I stop briefly and look him directly in the face.

"What, are you going to stop me from using public transportation? Because I'm pretty sure I'm allowed to get home any way I goddamn please-

With that, he grabs my arm and practically yanks it out of the socket as he opens the passenger side door and tosses me in the car with ease. A pain shoots through my head as I collide with the radio. My skirt flips upward as I flail my legs about at my sudden loss of footing.

"What the fuck—" I begin to protest. In one swift movement, he locks my door and slams it behind me. Before I have time to regain my composure in the car, he is already opening the driver's side door and sitting down in his seat. After more cursing and flailing about, I am seated properly but before I can unlock the door and jump out, screaming that he tried to kidnap me, he starts the ignition and drives full speed down the street.

"Fuck you," I say huffily. Out of the corner of my eye, I see him smirking slightly.

"I just wanted to talk to you without you trying to attack me. And frankly, I would not trust a bus at night in this part of town with you in that get-up. Remember those guys at the bus stop?"

How could I forget? That was the first time Cartman was actually decent to me… he even gave me his jacket.

Oh. Right. "I still have your jacket," I say stoically.

"Yeah, I know," he replies, turning the steering wheel with ease.

Pause. Awkward silence. The leather under my butt feels cool against my skin. I decide since I'm stuck in this car for the next thirty minutes, I might as well buckle up.

"So… is there a reason you basically kidnapped me?"

"…orry…" he mumbles.

"I didn't catch that," I say, turning to look at him. He grits his teeth and says nothing.

"I guess… earlier. About the Stan thing. I didn't mean it…" It's quiet again. The sound of the wheels whirring along the tarred streets is louder than our breathing.

Cartman tries at conversation again, "Do you really act in ways you don't feel all the time?"

"Are you really only keeping the secret because you're embarrassed about the fact you kissed me?" I snap back.

He stays silent. I sigh and think about his question.  
"Yeah," I answer grimly. "At home, I have to act like the perfect Jewish son who's going to be a lawyer like good old Dad, and also be supportive of my little brother and all the good things his smartness brings. And then at Angel Morte, I have to act like I'm dating you, and that I'm a girl… that's why Thomas kissed me, I guess—

"He WHAT?" He slams on the breaks as hard as he can, causing the car behind us to honk over and over. The seatbelt tightens on my chest and I cringe

Oh fuck. Did not mean to say that. He sits at the wheel without making a sound for another moment. The cars behind us honk angrily and swerve around the suddenly stopped car.

"I'm going to beat the shit out of that retard."

"No you're not. If anyone should, I should."

"You're such a fag for letting a boy kiss you."

"You're such a fag for kissing me. Now lay the fuck off."

"Why do you put yourself in stupid situations like that?"

"Why the fuck do you care?"  
"You're right, Jew. I don't care. Kiss whoever the fuck you want. Just remember you and I have a deal, and part of it is that _you_ are my fake girlfriend. That means that in that slut dress, you are mine." His expression looks cold and his eyes seem darker than usual.

I don't say anything as I feel the ice build up in my chest again. The car slowly rolls to life again as he looks away from me and continues on course for home.

I sigh and cross my arms. I'm in the car with a fucking psycho. "What the fuck is wrong with you, Cartman? Why do you care whether or not someone kisses me?"

"Because you're my girlfrend," he answers plainly.

There are so many things wrong with that sentence. "Yes, but why me? You're supposed to hate me."

It's silent for another moment.

"I still hate you, Kahl. I think about it all the time. I thrive on being able to make your life as miserable as possible as long as I can control it. You should realize by now that you and are exact opposites. You're an overly emotional girl, and I am a suave sophisticated man with complete control of everything I do and think and say."

He suddenly swerves the car toward the sidewalk and puts the car in park.

"You're supposed to hate me too," he remarks quietly, sitting back in his seat. I can barely make out a sign that says 'Welcome to South Park'. It's quiet.

I know I'm supposed to hate Cartman. I feel like I kind of do, actually, for all the shit he's put me through, but… he's changed. He's not the same terrible little monster he was when he was nine. He's grown up… I guess it didn't really start until his mom left. She left him to fend for himself and he matured… in weird ways.

I can't say yes or no to hating him because either way I'll end up stepping in shit, like earlier today, just because I told Stan about my situation he freaked out and lost his temper. He's still Cartman, still annoying, spoiled, manipulative, insulting, and most of all, just angry at everything.

I don't know how I feel anymore. All I know is that our… 'situation' is more fucked up than two people just hating each other.

Snow begins to build up on the windshield as I turn to face Cartman.

Suddenly, he unbuckles his seat belt and leans toward me, his brown eyes steely again. He leans over and touches his nose to mine. My breath stops in my throat as I watch him. His eyes are flashing as he looks between my eyes, seeming to be searching for something. Hell if I know what he wants.

"What do you want from me?" is all I can ask. He has me dangling from a tiny thread, and much like a cat would, just pushes it back and forth playfully between his claws.

"Everything," he replies in a voice so low, that I more feel it than I can hear it. My heart pounds in my throat and I close my eyes, trying to push the visual of Cartman's eyes out of my mind. I put my hands on his chest, much like I did to Thomas earlier today when I had to push him away, but instead I let my hands linger there for a moment. I can still feel Cartman's nose pressing mine and his breath on my face. And through his jacket and shirt, I can barely feel Cartman's chest, but I can feel his heart beating. Pounding, really.

Just as quickly as mine.

I open my eyes and all at once, the heat I felt in the space Cartman's body and mine vanishes, and is replaced with a piercing cold air as he sits back in his seat, away from me. I glance over at him and feel my cheeks heat up slightly as my eyes trace his profile and linger on his lips.

When Thomas kissed me, I felt nothing. Really. It was just empty touching. A pillow. He might as well have bumped into me on accident. But with Cartman… even just now. Why didn't I feel like that when Thomas kissed me? Is this really all hate? Because I don't remember feeling this… warm inside when Cartman and I would beat the living hell out of each other.

He sighs and I break out of my reprieve. I feel very warm.

"You should get home soon… Stan's house, right?"

"Yeah," I reply, looking away from him as he switches the car back into drive and puts his foot on the gas pedal.

"I guess I can take you there now without any questions… considering he knows."

"Yeah," I reply again, getting lost in thought in order to avoid the awkward tension that has built up in the space between us.

I don't quite hate him. But I'm not about to tell him that. I'm still dangling on his little thread, and until he either cuts me loose and let's me go, or decides to eat me, I'm stuck.

I look at my reflection in the glass of the window. I still had some make-up on from Angel Morte, and the bows I left in my hair. I reach up and untie both of the black bows, one on each side of my head. I look back in the mirror—less like a girl. More like a cross-dresser. I reach up to my eyes and rub at them in order to get the mascara out of them.

I can't help it I look like this… but I'm not a girl. I'm Kyle Broflovski, and I'm basically screwed.

/\/\/\

_I open my eyes and I'm sitting in what appears to be Mr. Garrison's classroom. The 'Alice's Adventures in Wonderland' book is propped open on my desk. I reach down and pick it up. Suddenly, there's a tap on my shoulder. I look up and meet eyes with Thomas._

"_Kylie you look so beautiful," Thomas says to me, smiling through the mist._

_I smile back, "That's nice Thomas, but my name is Kyle. What are you doing at my school?"_

"_Well, we're dating, and I thought I would bring you some lunch, Kylie." He holds a bag with a ribbon tied around the top toward me._

"_My name isn't Kylie, Thomas, it's Kyle. And since when are we dating?"_

"_Since you started servicing me at Angel Morte. You were ever so sweet, you even agreed to kiss me in front of all our friends."_

"_Our friends?" I ask, looking around the room at the surrounding desks. Kenny is sitting on top of the desk to my left, with Stan in front of him wearing a black tuxedo, and in Stan's lap is Wendy wearing her Angel Morte white dress._

"_We really are glad you two got all your feelings out in the open," Stan says, holding Wendy around her waist and smiling appreciatively._

"_I have to admit, Thomas used to be a real butthead to you, but he's really cleaned up his act and changed, just for you! You two are even living together, isn't that romantic, Kylie?" Wendy giggles, leaning down and kissing Stan on the forehead._

"_Why are you all calling me Kylie?" I ask loudly, standing up out of my chair and leaving the book on the desk. "I'm Kyle! You're not supposed to call me Kylie outside of Angel Morte—_

"_Come off it Kylie, have a hit of this super great hash I got off of Token! Here," Kenny passes a red bong toward me, smoke enveloping the whole room._

"_I don't want your fucking weed! Why are you calling me Kylie?"_

"_Well… that's your name, Kylie," Thomas replies from behind me, putting his hand on my shoulder and smiling. "You're Kylie, the girl I've been dating for two months now."_

"_I'm not a fucking girl! I have a dick—I'm a goddamn boy so STOP CALLING ME KYLIE!"_

"_Um, look in the mirror Kylie," Wendy says, pointing at the floor. I look down and the entire classroom's floor is one giant mirror. However, instead of me wearing my green hat and orange jacket, I'm wearing my Angel Morte dress. I reach up to my head and feel the bows on either side, and suddenly, I rip them off. I reach down to my feet and yank off both the large clunky heels, and then my socks as well._

_I clutch at the poofy mess of the skirt and rip at it, and slowly, the dress begins to fall off of me. Finally, I rip off both the arm warmers, and am down to just my boxers._

"_See?" I yell at the four of them, "I'm a boy!"  
"No you're not," they all reply in unison. Kenny takes a hit from his smoking bong and suddenly the whole room is filled with white smoke. I can feel myself choking and coughing on it, and as I look around, the four of them are gone, and I am left surrounded by smoke._

_Slowly, I feel the floor heating up below my bare feet, and as I look down, the mirrored floor turns brown and liquefies._

_I scream as I fall into the brown liquid, and I realize quickly it's coffee. I can feel my lungs filling up with it as I try to swim to the surface. Eventually, I break into the smoke again and grab onto one of the floating desks, a remnant from the classroom._

"_HELP ME! SOMEBODY!" I yell. A wave of the coffee splashes over me and I let go of the desk, falling back underneath the water._

_Suddenly, I find myself inside a large bottle, and floating along the surface. I bob up and down for a bit and the smoke begins to clear and the roaring coffee turns to calm water. I attempt to stand inside the bottle and look around. I see land and slowly, the bottle seems to be drifting toward it. Once I'm closer to the land, I can barely make out two people sitting on the edge of what appears to be the Stark's Pond shoreline. However, one of them (the girl) appears to be stark naked._

"_BUBBALA!" I hear someone calling from deep within the waters. "BUBBALA I KNOW YOU'RE HERE!"_

_I focus my attention on the people at the shore and can make out the familiar red jacket and a swath of brown hair._

"_CARTMAN!" I yell, and try to grab at the rim of the bottle. I hold the glass with both hands and try to pull myself out as I drift toward the shore._

"_I always thought you were cute Porsche. I really like your tits particularly," I can hear Cartman say._

"_Why thank you Mr. Eric. I always knew you'd dump that skank for me," Porsche giggles and grabs his hand, forcing it onto her bosom. "Touch me like a man should touch a woman."  
Suddenly, the bottle is pulled backward, back toward the middle of the pond. I turn around and see a whirlpool appearing._

"_Bubbala come back!" I hear my mother yell from the middle of the whirlpool. I get knocked back inside the bottle and turn back toward Cartman._

"_CARTMAN HELP ME!"_

"_Don't worry babe. I was just playing with him because I could."_

"_CARTMAN!"_

_He leans toward the naked Porsche and puts a hand under her chin, much like he'd done to me at Angel Morte when he kissed me the first time._

"_CAAARTTTMANN!"_

_Out of nowhere, Kenny's head appears in front of me. First his smile, then his eyes, and his hair, much like the Cheshire Cat._

"_I have a message from a Fat Ass to a certain Jew Boy. Comply and you will be rewarded."_

/\/\/\

My eyes shoot open and I'm met with Stan's ceiling. I throw the sheets off of me as I'm sweating profusely and rub at my eyes. They're wet. So are my cheeks. I'm panting as I look around the room for a clock. It's four in the morning. I glance up at Stan, who is half falling off his bed as he snores softly.

I sigh and fall back onto the bed. What a fucked up dream. It even made me cry. Why was I crying? Because my friends didn't listen to me, because my mom was trying to kill me, or because I was Cartman fuck around with a slut?

Probably all the above. Now I know why I don't sleep normally.

I look down at my boxers and practically yell out in anger. And to top it all off, I have a boner. God fucking damnit.

/\/\/\

Five hours, two attempts at sleeping again, a cup of coffee and a shower later, Stan and I sit in the busy classroom. Mr. Garrison declared Study Hall and stepped out again to the teacher's lounge, and the class was getting as rowdy as usual. Butters was flitting between desks and trying to talk to various people, but failing. Clyde was mindlessly flipping through a copy of Esquire, Token was laughing about something with Bebe and Red. Stan went to the bathroom, leaving Wendy alone at her desk.

I think Wendy got the impression that I didn't want to speak to her considering she hasn't made one move to come over and speak to me since everyone began to speak during the break. Instead, she just scowled over at Cartman every few minutes and he just replied by flipping her the birdy.

Not like I'm paying attention to Cartman. At all. I just noticed some movement in front of me is all. It's not like that moment yesterday where something-almost-happened-but-didn't-happen hasn't been playing in my head the five hours I've been awake. I don't even see the point in being at school today. I can't think straight. My weird dream is still haunting me… in all the wrong places.

Kenny shoots a paper football onto my desk and I glance up from my own personal copy of the Omnivore's Dilemma (some light reading to get my head off of… other things).

"You want something?" I ask tiredly.

"You look like ass. Is something wrong?" he asks, his blue eyes darting quickly toward Cartman then back on me. He knows I saw him do that.

"Did you _see_ something?" I ask curiously. Maybe he caught a glimpse of Cartman and I in his car yesterday… I wouldn't like it if he saw that either.

"Possibly," he grins widely. It's no wonder in my dream he replaced the Cheshire Cat.

"Get a fucking life, Kenny," Cartman says from in front of me. I feel my cheeks heat up. Wait, why am I reacting to just hearing his voice? Even if he's right in front of me, I was able to ignore the fact we were sitting three feet apart from each other until he said something.

"Well, _Eric_, I had a life, then I died, then you drank my ashes, and now my life gets parts of yours in it, you big fuck-up."

Fuck. Why am I blushing? What the hell is going on? I can't think straight anymore.

"Well you don't have to share everything you see at night with the world, you poor little shit," Cartman replies, his voice seething with anger.

Shit. He said something else. What if he talks to me? I can't keep listening to him. I feel weird. Like, there's a huge pit in my stomach. And I'm still in the red from my dream… I still don't understand why I would have a fucking boner from that in the first place. None of this makes any fucking sense.

I admitted to myself that I might not hate Cartman and everything falls apart.

"You're a useless chicken, Eric Cartman. Whatever happened to that pair of balls you used to go on and on about when we were younger?"

"Kyle Broflovski to the principal's office please."

I glance up at Cartman, and he's mirroring my confused gaze. He did say my name.

I can feel my heart sinking as I screech my chair out from underneath me and begin to head for the door.

"Is it your Mom?" Kenny asks. I look over my shoulder at him. There's a slight crease between his eyebrows as the corners of his lips turn down. If I didn't know better, I'd say he was worried.

"I don't know…" I begin, looking at Cartman as well. He remains silent, so I continue. "It's possible."

Neither one of them says anything else. I turn around and look at Stan on the other side of the room—he didn't seem to hear the announcement, for he's still locked in a loving caress with Wendy. If possible, I think my heart sinks even lower into my bowels.

I walk past all the students talking and quickly head out of the room, making sure my hat is straight and my shoes are tied, in case it is my mom and I decide just to run back to the room and act like I didn't hear the PA system.

As I walk down the hall to the principal's office, my eyes focus on a boy not much younger than me, sitting on the bench outside the office where visitors usually sit. He has an oval shaped head and dark hair, cropped short. He's wearing some school's uniform. When I get closer, he looks me in the face and smiles.

I stop walking. My heart freezes in my chest and I feel my eyes widen.

It's Ike.

"Kyle!" he exclaims happily, standing up and reaching his arms outward. I still don't move. He skips toward me and puts his arms around my middle, squeezing tightly.

"What are you doing here?" is the first thing I ask. He was the last person I expected to see.

He let's go and meets my gaze. He's only two inches shorter than me, but he's five years younger, and is now in my grade and attending some private school somewhere… I think it's called Fielding Academy for the Gifted.

"I came to see you," He replies, beaming at me. "I called the house the other day and Mom said she didn't know where you were, so I figured wait around at school and you were bound to show up."

I grimace slightly. Does he know about my fight with Mom?

"So anyway, let's go out. They said it's excused since I came all this way just to see my big brother," he smirks and waves into the office. I glance in and see the secretary smile and wave back. My brother, the teacher's pet.

"So let's go!" He grabs my hand and yanks me toward the exit. I trip slightly with the force. "There has been this burger joint I've been really wanting to check out."

Dad got him a car when he left for the private school. He said something like "This is your reward for all the hard work you've put in over the years." I feel my heart sink slightly. It really isn't fun being the not-favorite child in the family. Thirty minutes and a car ride later, my brother and I arrive at the restaurant and walk inside.

A blonde waitress nods as we walk in and shows us to our seat, smiling at us all the while. After we sit down, she hands us the menus and walks back toward the kitchen, winking at me over her shoulder.

"She thinks you're cute," Ike says, smiling and putting his elbows on the table. I look down my nose at him and grin.

"I'm not particularly interested," I reply. Sometimes I forget Ike is only twelve, being a prodigy and all.

"So… Mom told me you moved out for a little while. Where are you living now?"

I love how he's not asking why I moved out, instead, he asked where I moved to.

"Stan's house at the moment."

"Oh," he looks down at the table and picks up the napkin, then fidgets with it as he seems to be thinking. "Well, are you doing your homework and whatever?"  
My little brother is checking up on me. Why? Did Mom put him up to this, "Yeah Ike, you don't have to worry about me."  
He's silent again for a moment and looks me directly in my green eyes with his dark brown ones.

"You should go back home."

I feel like I misheard him, so I just ask, "What?"

"You should go home," he repeats with the same look of determination. "With Mom and Dad."  
Pause. "Why?"

He looks away from me and bites his bottom lip. "Mom… she needs you. Without you around she doesn't know what to do with herself without a kid—

"It's not my fault you left home early," I practically snarl at him.

"Oh don't pin this on me. The short of it is this—I'm in my junior year at Fielding, and I need to keep my average up. I can't leave and go home anytime I want—the only reason they made this acceptation was because I'm an 'exemplary' student," he makes the hand motion for quotation marks and rolls his eyes. "Mom is… kind of sick. She just needs you home… Dad isn't enough sometimes. She's basically really worried about you—

"Just because they were willing to send you to private school doesn't mean you have a right to boss me around," I say angrily. I can't believe my own little brother is trying to throw me to the dogs.

"Whatever. Just think about it." Pause. Silence. Ike looks like he's not finished. He sighs loudly and rolls his eyes, "_And_ I was also asked to ask if you're seeing Cartman on a regular basis—

"Why is that important?"

"Mom thinks he's a bad influence," he shrugs. "Can't really say I blame her. She also doesn't want you to be killed—

"He isn't doing that sort of thing anymore," I argue. "He's… changed." Did I actually just say that? Well, I certainly think it enough, but did I really just say that to Ike?

Ike raises an eyebrow, "So you _have_ been seeing him." He smirks slightly and shakes his head, "More like _you've_ changed, Kyle. You're going soft. All those years of torture and you coming home crying or yelling because Cartman was up to no good at school."

"It's been a long time, Ike. You haven't even been home recently-

"And if I recall correctly," he continues like I didn't interrupt him, "the most recent time this happened was in eighth grade. Didn't he string his bag up the flagpole then say you did it, just to get you in trouble?"

I inwardly cringe. That was in response to me making fun of the fact he got suspended for bringing firecrackers to school. "Just drop this topic, alright? I don't want to talk about Cartman," I can feel a heat creeping on my cheeks, so I turn my face away.

"On a lighter note: so you still have the same friends? That's great. Kenny and Stan… any girls I should know about?"

"No. No girlfriends." I bring my glass up to my lips and sip the water.

"Boyfriends?"

I cough on my gulp of water and open my eyes in alarm. Ike puts his arms up defensively.

"Hey it's all the same to me. You're my brother, so I'll be there for you. And no, I won't tell Mom."

I smile. Truthfully, I did miss Ike. As soon as he left, mom pressed down even harder on me and I never really had anyone to talk to. It was nice to have my brother back for a little bit.

However, I have this nagging feeling at the back of my head about Mom. Was she really sick? Shouldn't I go back and tend to her? I am her son after all…

The waitress is walking back with our meals. Good thing it'll keep my mouth busy so I don't say something else I'll regret.

/\/\/\

After a drive back to school, Ike and I hugged goodbye and I watched him speed off in his car. I walk back into the classroom without a word and sit down in my seat—no one seems to be paying attention. I have no idea what time it is and my mind is reeling from the talk with Ike. What should I do? Should I go home like he said, or continue living at Stan's house for a bit? He said Mom is sick… but as soon as I get home she'll just yell at me and dote on my brother.

"Kahhhll… earth to Kahl!" a large hand appears in front of my face and snaps its fingers. I jump out of my momentary mind lapse and focus my eyes on the boy trying to get my attention.

"What?" I ask curtly. I'm just in a bad mood, he better not try to pester me about our deal or some shit-

"Who was the visitor?" he asks curiously, twisting around in his chair more so he can get a better look at me. Kenny glances over at me from my left. Stan seems to be chatting with Wendy over at her desk still, so he hasn't noticed my return yet.

"It was…" I begin quietly. "my brother."

Cartman's eyes widen, but before he can even say anything, Kenny stands up next to me and yawns loudly, stretching his arms to the sides. "Ya know Kyle? I'm awfully tired and don't feel like being at school any longer today."

Before I can even open my mouth, he pulls me up by my jacket's collar and grabs my wrist, much like Cartman would do. "So we'll be back later, Eric."

He yanks me quickly through the rows of desks and people and soon we're outside the classroom. I come to my senses and begin to protest.

"Mr. Garrison will mark us absent!"

"He didn't see you come back, so you're still excused. You could be out with Ike for all he knows."

"What about you?"

"I don't really give a flying fuck."

I hate everything.

Kenny let's go of my wrist, since now I seem compliant to do what he wants, and walks a little ahead of me down the halls. No one even noticed us as we slipped out of the school and got in Kenny's rundown van.

Neither of us said a word as he began to drive. I lean my head against the cool glass of the window and close my eyes.

/\/\/\

"Stark's pond?" I ask incredulously as I look around the misty beach of the lake. The mayor passed something a few years ago to deal with the pollution at this lake, so now it's actually kind of pretty. Although there is still an ever-lingering fog around the water. The trees hang over the entrance to the beach and the actual water.

"Yeah. This is where I go when I don't feel like being around people… or just to smoke during school," he casts me a side-smirk and walks toward the water. The fog seems to engulf him as he walks away from me. I follow him to the edge of the lake.

"Look over there," he says, pointing toward the right side of the lake. "Do you recognize that building?"

He flicks his hood upward onto his head as I follow his gesture. I squint, and beyond the dark trees I can barely make out the words 'Angel Morte' flashing in the distance.

"That's where I work!" I say, surprised. Kenny snickers.

"That's how Cartman discovered Angel Morte, ya know?" I turn to look at him. His hood is covering most of his face. The blonde reaches into his coat pocket and pulls out a cigarette and lighter. I grimace slightly but he doesn't notice and continues, "Truthfully, Cartman comes here more often than I do. He found this place, and then I saw it in one of my… 'flashes', then I came here. He saw Angel Morte over there and decided to eat there about a week before you got the job."

I nodded. I knew he's only been eating there for about a week when I joined. Kenny flicks his lighter and breathes in deeply as he starts his cigarette. He places the lighter back in his pocket and faces me.

"Just sit and enjoy the scenery," he says, grinning. His cigarette hangs precariously between his lips as he sits down and gazes out on the dark water.

I, too, sit down. After about a minute of staring at nothing, I say, "Ike wants me to move back in with Mom… for her sake."

"Do you want to?" he asks questionably, his eyes darting toward me quickly.

"Of course not," I reply quickly, shifting my legs in front of me and hugging my knees. "but he thinks it would be best if our parents had one son around for a little longer—

"Is he living with them?" Kenny asks, removing the cigarette from his lips and blowing out smoke rings.

"No," I answer quickly.

"Well does he visit often?"

"No."

"Is he helping them out in any way?"

"Not that I know of—

"Then screw it!" He replies, casting his hands upward. "Don't let your little brother tell you to do something he himself doesn't want to do. He doesn't even bother to understand why you moved out, or see how much trouble your Mom was causing you. Fuck him for thinking he has a right to tell you how to live!"

I'm slightly taken aback by what Kenny says. I mean, he has a point. Why should Ike be telling me what to do when he's the one that moved out first?

"You have enough money to live on your own for a bit, don't you?" Kenny asks, scratching the back of his hood.

"Yeah. I saved up a lot of money from tips at Angel Morte… I think I have about a thousand dollars now."

"A lot of it is from Cartman, I presume."

"Yeah. About seven hundred."

All goes quiet a moment and I swear I can feel the air grow cold. I move my butt around on the sand to get more comfortable.

"Have you ever wondered where he's getting the money to tip you?" Kenny asks me. I look over at him, but his face is hidden by his orange hood. Wind whips around us as I stare blankly at his covered profile, my mind ticking away.

"No… not really," I admit. I look back down at my hands and furrow my brow. Where did I think he was getting the money? I never really thought about it… I don't particularly care… or I _didn't _really care… Is he doing something weird I should know about? Is it drug money or something—

"Don't think about it too much," Kenny says knowingly, turning to face me. "Your head will start to hurt and you won't be able to properly assess the situation."

I narrow my eyes at him. "Ha ha, very funny Ken," I say sarcastically. "Do _you_ know where he's getting the money from?"

His smile dies and he looks at me seriously, his hood casting a dramatic shadow across his face. He doesn't say anything. Just stares at me with his piercing blue eyes. The cold air nips at my face and I wonder what it is he's not telling me.

"Ask Cartman," he finally says. I cast him an irritated gaze.

I begin to imagine I'm somewhere else. Somewhere away from all this stupidity and drama. But the only thing I can imagine is a large dark wave crashing onto me and pulling me into the depths of the water.

I feel like I discovered something I shouldn't have. Something really is changing with me… I just can't put my finger on it yet.

/\/\/\

/\/\/\/\/\

/\/\/\/

/\/\/

AN: This is the longest story I have written. Check out the word count, it's longer than DSMB, but just has less chapters.

I really love how it seems every chapter new people are discovering this story—it's so exciting! I only hope people are enjoying where this story is going as much as I am…

Hopefully my writing has gotten better. I read through DSMB a few months ago and couldn't freakin believe it's only been a year and a half since then.

Anywho, I hope everyone is having a good summer. I'll read through whatever stories people ask me to. If I haven't gotten to ones already mentioned here yet, I will very soon. I apologize but when I'm writing a new chapter my mind just goes blank of all other responsibilities!

Much Love, OR


	19. Truths

Waiting on an Enemy

Author: OnigiriReject

Summary: Kyle is spotted working his job as a waitress by none other than Cartman. Will Cartman keep his secret? And what's with that smile of his?

Pairings: KyCart with undertones of Stendy.

~South Park and all characters belong to Matt Stone and Trey Parker, I'm just borrowing them for a little fun. ~

/\/\

Chapter Nineteen: Truths

/\/\

"So it was actually Ike that was at the office? That's weird," Stan says while flipping through the pages of his Algebra book absentmindedly. He is lying on his stomach on his bed and supposedly doing his math homework, a subject he is terrible in, and asked for me to help him. So far he's asked more about my day than actually finish any of the problems.

"Yeah," I mutter, writing down the quadratic formula at the top of my homework page. The extra bed we placed on the floor creaks underneath my weight as I try to get more comfortable. I don't particularly want to dwell on the fact that Stan was MIA the entire time I was at school today, since he was with Wendy. They deserve to be happy—it's not like he knew I was having a bad day.

"What did he want?" Stan asks. I frown. I didn't want to discuss this while we were supposed to be doing homework.

"He just wanted to see me. And… he told me I should go back home. My parents are apparently really worried, and… he says it would be best for all involved if I lived with them… at least until college."

"But not for you," Stan adds pointedly. I say nothing and keep my head down. I already feel kind of bad for just ditching my parents, but I think this break from them was needed. My grades are even improving because I can concentrate and I have less stress.

"Is that why you've barely said anything all night?" Stan asks worriedly. "Is that what you've been thinking about this entire time?"

No. No it's not. I've been switching between this stupid homework and… "Really, Stan, I've been thinking about Cartman."

There's a pause in our conversation as he thinks through what I just said. He clears his throat and says, "Wendy mentioned something about Cartman giving you a hard time yesterday—

"Yeah he was." That wasn't what I was thinking about, but okay. "Wendy took care of it though, and now it's fine. He… kind of apologized for it, actually."

"Really? He apologized?" he sounds just as surprised as I was.

"He drove me home so I wouldn't have to take the bus," I add, pretending to write on my homework but actually just doodling a bow on the corner of my notebook.

"Wow," Stan exhales loudly. "You've had a weird twenty four hours."  
"Nothing weirder than what I'm used to." Understatement.

"So what are you going to do about what Ike said?" Stan swings his feet back and forth on the bed and scratches at his black hair. I really don't want to think about what Ike said…

"I don't know. I don't want to go home… and I said I'd be gone a week, and it's only been three days. I'll decide on Thursday."

"You can stay here as long as you need to, you know," my best friend adds, shooting me a smile.  
"I know, Stan. Thanks," I try to smile back but I feel like it only looks like a grimace.

Our conversation appears over and I look back at my homework. Having absolutely no concentration or drive to complete it, I remain quiet for another moment. I cross my arms on the bed and lie my head down on them, inwardly sighing as all my thoughts about Cartman from today return.

Cartman… how is he getting the money? I didn't want him to be spending dirty money on me. Would he be bullying the money out of kids at school?

No. He stopped doing that in middle school. Well, more like he focused it all on me. Butters stopped giving him everything he wanted and everyone kind of stopped hanging around him, so he sort of clung to Stan, Kenny and I.

I rub my forehead and realize it's impossible to focus on my homework when I have this giant thing on my chest. The thing's name being 'Mr. Eric."

I don't know anything anymore. I have been trying to think about my relationship with Cartman in the rational sense, but the reality is nothing about our situation makes sense. Like I said before, as soon as I say I don't exactly hate him anymore, it all comes falling down.

I keep catching myself wondering what he's doing. I mean, I thought about that even when I was younger, but then it was out of fear, and now it feels like it's out of concern. And then when I think about the car ride yesterday (which I am trying desperately to avoid thinking about) I feel warm. And almost… dare I say, happy? It doesn't make sense. My body is reacting to him in weird ways. And it gets worse the more I think about him. And lately, I've been thinking about him all the time.

I remember… when I went over to Cartman's house last week, when Kenny told me he was sick and told me to deliver the homework, before that I couldn't stop thinking about Cartman. Because he kissed me. What's happening now… seems to have stemmed from that.

I don't understand Cartman's reasoning behind things, and the more I think about it, the more confused I get. If he really wants it to be believable that we're dating, why has he only kissed me twice? Well, there was that time in the car—

No I'm not thinking about that. No. He wasn't going to kiss me. Nope. I mean, there was only us there, he'd get nothing out of it. No audience, no fun to play with the Jew, I know the drill.

I frown and roll onto my back, lying sprawled across the bed; I let out a long sigh.

Why do I care? Why do I care? WHY DO I CARE? It's fucking Cartman. God. Why should I care what his motives are, at this point, no one can find out that it's me working at Angel Morte because not only would I be fired and completely humiliated, but everyone would think Cartman is gay. So it's not like he's telling anyone… my secret is safe.

But there's a hole in that logic. If Cartman now can't tell anyone, then why would he pretend to date _me_? Yeah, I know he wants to brag about having a girlfriend, but ever since the first kiss, he hasn't really done another public spectacle like that, and everyone stopped talking about it. Sure, there's the occasional slight about how someone like Cartman managed to bag one of the Angel Morte workers, but other than that, no mention of it. Isn't the reason he wanted to date me to get the guys riled up? Why hasn't he tried something else.

And, what is he getting out of pretending to date me? Maybe no one else wanted to date him, so this was his desperate attempt to get people to stop saying he was unattractive and no girl wanted him.

Well, that's not even true because Porsche has shown plenty of interest. So okay—Cartman can date girls. It's been confirmed. But he's never really shown an interest… in any. Ever. The first real _straight_ thing he did was go to Angel Morte, where people obviously don't come for the food.

Wait. Does this mean he could be… my cheeks heat up immensely and I grab my pillow and put it over my head.

There's no way in hell Cartman is gay. No. No way. He doesn't want anyone to think he's a fag for kissing me, hence why he's keeping the secret. Well… he could be gay but in denial… no. That's just stupid. He's never dated a boy or a girl to the extent of my knowledge.

Cartman is definitely not gay.

Wait. Why do I care about his sexuality? Am I just curious or am I thinking of prospects for myself? I almost laugh aloud. Cartman and I can't date. Just no. That would be the worst relationship ever…

Aren't we already sort of in a relationship? I am kind of dating him. In a weird way. It's not the worst. I mean, he's nicer to me now than he used to be…

No. Not good thoughts. I am not going to continue thinking this way. It's distracting. I have an Algebra test coming up.

/\/\/\

I lie in bed and listen to Stan's muffled snores. I can't sleep. It's probably midnight.

I can't stop thinking about him. I can't. Why is this happening? Is this because of what Kenny asked me? I mean, I don't know where he's getting the money…  
/\/\/\

Tuesday, everything is the same, if not just slightly more awkward. I go to school, get harassed by Cartman, I go to work and I'm kept company by Cartman and earn even more money. All the while, I can't stop thinking about him. Nothing makes sense anymore.

Every time he even addresses me my heart beats faster. I could be sick. It could be out of fear. Although, usually when I'm scared, I feel ice form in my chest. This is the opposite of ice—it's warmth.

Wednesday: I continue to stare at him through class, all the unanswered questions running through my head. The bell rings and everyone begins to head out of the class for lunch, but I tap on Cartman's shoulder.

He looks over at me and asks plainly, "What do you want, Jew?"

I ignore the fact he didn't call me by my actual name and I say, "Can you and I talk before lunch?"

He rolls his eyes, "You know lunch is my favorite subject of the day—

"Come on Cartman," I say exasperatedly, feeling a headache about to set in above my ears. "It won't take long. You're not even at lunch much anymore."

Partially true. The days he did come to lunch, he only sat with us half the time, the other half he spent with Butters. It's not like I missed him or anything. I just wondered what was going on…

"Fine. But make it fast."

Am I worried about him or something? I mean, his mom did just up and leave him…

Why am I thinking like this? God, things were so much easier when we just fought.

I put my right hand to my temple and try to massage my headache away. Cartman is just watching me as I wait for everyone to leave the room.

Finally, Token is the last to exit and I stand up and walk in front of Cartman's desk, frowning down at him.

Which question do I start with? I have so many. Now that I'm actually thinking about the things he's done recently, I'm quite curious.

"Where'd you get the car you picked me up in on Sunday?"

He seems vaguely amused by my question. "It was Stan's Uncle Jimbo's before he got a hybrid. He gave it to my mom after they fucked for a bit, then she gave it to me as a practice car to learn to drive."

"Do you have a driver's license?"

"No. Are we playing twenty questions or something?"

I roll my eyes. "No, there's just a lot of questions you like to leave unanswered, and I'd like some answers."

Pause. Silence. We meet each other's gaze and he looks down at his hands. He begins to strum his fingers on the desk. I watch his jaw tense and my eyes trail down to his jacket's collar, which he left unzipped at the very top. I can barely make out a black t-shirt underneath.

"Is black your favorite color?" I blurt out before thinking about it.

Cartman snorts and stops strumming momentarily to look me in the face and smirk, "Why the fuck do you want to know that?"

"Curiousity. You always wear black shirts under your jacket."

Quiet again. Is it weird that I noticed the shirt? I feel my face flush and I cross my arms.

This time, Cartman sighs and stands. "Okay, I'll play your little game, Jew. But can we go outside and do it? Unlike you _nerds_, I don't like to be in a classroom longer than I have to."

I almost smile as I agree and soon enough, Cartman leads me out of the classroom, up some stairs, and face to face with a janitor's closet on the top floor. He turns the doorknob and walks into the dark room, beckoning for me to follow. My logical mind says that anywhere dark and small with Cartman is a bad idea, but soon I see him open another door in the back of the closet, leading to the snowy roof.

I walk through the closet and soon, I'm closing the roof door behind me and walking alongside Cartman on the roof of our school. I'll admit I'd seen him up here before. From Kenny's window-seat in our classroom, you can see a corner of the roof. Cartman was heading toward the very same corner, his sneakers leaving lined footprints in the fresh snow. He walks to the ledge of the roof and sits down slowly. I follow and sit to his left, looking down on the snow-covered basketball court and cars in the parking lot. I can even see the tops of some of the trees in the forest nearby.

I glance at Cartman from the corner of my eye and watch as he pulls out a cigarette and a lighter from his pocket, and places the cigarette between his lips. I frown and say, "Don't you remember our deal? I said I'd pretend to date you if you stopped smoking."

He pauses and turns to look at me, the cigarette being clenched between his teeth. He stares at me a moment, removes the cigarette, and asks, "Why do you hate cigarette smoke so much?"

"What, are you asking me questions now?" I narrow my eyes.

"It's only fair considering you started it, Kahl. I want some answers, too. So, why do you hate cigarettes so much?"

He seems to genuinely wonder why I hate the smoke. I don't think he could ever use that knowledge against me, so… I sigh, "My dad… when Ike was transferred into my grade in Freshman year, my dad would sometimes come home smelling like cigarettes. We all knew he didn't smoke… but he had this client who was charged for prostitution and she smoked like a chimney.

"He would come home really late sometimes and just reek of cigarettes. Mom would get really upset but he denied everything. After one of their really big fights, Ike got the letter inviting him to the Fielding School for the Gifted."

It's silent for a moment, and I can feel Cartman watching me. I focus on some of the treetops in the distance.

"How weird is it having a sibling who's a lot younger than you be in your class?" he asks.

I frown. "It was really fucking weird. Freshman year sucked."

Cartman laughs and I glance over at him. He scratches at his brown hair and adds, "It was really awkward." Pause. "Are you thinking about moving back in with your family?"

How did he know I was thinking about that? "Yeah… I mean I'm considering it. I don't want to. But Ike says that my parents are worried sick, and it would be nice if they had at least one kid home…"

"It's not your responsibility to take care of your family," he says blankly. I look at his face—he seems to be sincere.

I feel my throat dry and I swallow, "I know… I just don't know what I should do."

"Don't move back in with that bitch. It's that simple."

I sigh, "You don't understand everything, Cartman."

"Yes I do, just not in the way you do."

A quietness settles between us again and I fidget uncomfortably. Why did I start this question war? I wanted to get some things straight with him… because it's been bothering me.

I think back to the very first few times I saw him at Angel Morte. Before he knew that I was 'Kahl' and not 'Kylie'. I remember he was reading Crime and Punishment, and I wondered at the time why he was asking to borrow my notes if he had in fact read the book.

"Do you actually like Dostoevsky or are you just full of shit?"

"I like Crime and Punishment until the last four sentences. And Notes to the Underground was decent. I prefer Nabokov," he answers quickly.

You could have knocked me over with a feather with that one.

"I didn't know you read… at all," I say truthfully.

"I don't," he replies plainly. "The only books I've completely read through are Crime and Punishment and Notes to the Underground. And Lolita. Oh, and Silence of the Lambs. Most books along those lines I like. Brilliant people going insane and doing fucked up shit."

"I thought you were illiterate," I comment, placing my hands underneath my butt in order to keep them warm on the icy roof.

"I thought you were a girl," he replies, smirking. I run through the list of questions I thought of last night.

"Why haven't you tried any more public spectacles since the day after Valentine's Day?"

It takes him a moment to answer. I watch as his Adams apple lowers and rises again in his throat.

"Well, for one I haven't really had the chance, considering you were only at work on Sunday of this week and Wendy basically kicked me out."

Oh. I forgot about that.  
"Truthfully, I should probably step up the 'boyfriend' action so Thomas backs off you."

I feel my cheeks redden but I try to fight them down. "Why do you care if Thomas is hitting on me or not?"

Cartman narrows his eyes and glares at me for a moment, his upper lip curling, "Jesus Christ Kahl, are you really that clueless?"

"Well, what am I missing?"

He stares at me. "Have you ever dated anyone?"

"No," I reply quickly.

"Kissed anyone?" Gay question.

"Aside from you? No." Gay answer.

"Well then do you want to date Thomas?"

"No."  
"Then why are you getting mad at me when I try to do you a favor and get Thomas as far away from you as possible?"  
"My question is: why are you doing it?"

He thinks for a moment, then answers simply, "Because you're Kyle and I'm Cartman."  
I don't even ask him to elaborate. I don't understand that logic at all. I decide to turn the same questions back on him.

"Have you ever been in a relationship?"

"No." Pause. I wait for a moment for him to elaborate. He doesn't.

"Have you ever liked anyone?"  
"Kahl," Cartman rolls his brown eyes and narrows them at me. "I'm entirely too busy pretending to be dating you to have time for dumb shit like that. Obviously you don't know me well if you think I'd fall for anyone in this shithole town—it's below my standards."

"So you weren't pretending to date me to make some girl jealous?"

Cartman scoffs and rolls his eyes. "No. Why do you want to know that?"  
"Again… curiosity." So he doesn't like any girls. I'm not going to ask if he's gay, though. That could end with him pushing me off this roof.

"Why, do you like someone and is pretending to date me as Kylie getting in the way?"  
"No! No no no," I exclaim, shaking my head.

Pause. Quiet again. Suddenly, I feel the warmth of my hat lifted off my head.

"Hey!" I yell, trying to swipe the hat back from Cartman. He laughs and places it on his other side, too far away from me to grab without risk of falling.

"Why do you always wear this same, stupid hat?"

I pout. "Because I hate my hair."

"Well then, get it cut."

"I can't… now that I work at Angel Morte."

"Sure you can. You look enough like a girl," he frowns for a moment. "You _do_ wear makeup at the restaurant, right?"

"Yeah. Usually Mercedes does it for me, or Wendy," that's a lie actually. Recently I've gotten pretty good with using eyeliner and lipstick on my own, since I show up before all the other girls, but I'm not about to tell Cartman that.

"And you wear a bra there, right?"

"Yeah. Again, Wendy's help."

Cartman's lips start trembling and suddenly he explodes with laughter. "What the fuck, Kahl, you basically are a girl!"

"Hey!" I feel my internal temperature spike as I furrow my brows at him, "You fucking fat-ass!"

"Hey! I'm not fat you lousy Jew!" he angrily retorts.

I frown and some of my red locks fall in my face. I _should_ get a haircut. I look Cartman up and down and sigh, feeling all my steam vanish. "You're right, you're not fat. But I'm not a lousy Jew either." I pause as my brain clicks into high gear. "So… how did you lose so much weight?"

He looks away from me and crosses his arms huffily. Did I upset him by asking or something?

"Puberty," he answers simply. There's a pause and he adds quietly, "And I started lifting weights in high school. After school and shit."

I frown. How had I not noticed he wasn't around after school? Well, I mean I did, sort of… that was when Ike was elevated to my grade. And my home life got worse and my mom kept making me come home early and study… Oh. Right.

I think about what I wanted for my future, before I got my job.

"What do you want to do after high school?" I look out over the tops of the snow-covered trees and wait for his reply.

Cartman says nothing. I glance over at him and turn my legs toward him. He still doesn't say anything.

"Cartman?" I ask. He finally meets my eyes.

"That's a weird question. Truthfully Jew, if you'd asked me that in middle school, I would have replied get a law degree to go on and become President of the World, but now I think it's too much work and I don't feel like trying to make this stupid world work. I would say I want to go to college, but that would be lying. I don't see why I should just move to another shithole town to start another stupid life and learn more shit that I'll never use in the world. So, if anything, the only thing I want to do after high school is exist and figure it out from there. That's all I'm doing now and it seems to be working pretty well.

"Why, what do you want to do?"

"Well, my family has always expected me to become a lawyer like my dad, but it seems like Ike is going down that career path, so I don't have to anymore. Obviously I'm not going to be working at Angel Morte forever… so I really don't know. I'd be cool with just existing, too. Existing and somehow being happy in the process.

"But I really like science. And reading. Who knows. Maybe community college for two years then transferring when I decide to contribute to society."

At that, Cartman laughs. I smile. It feels very comfortable and almost natural to talk with Cartman like this. It's almost like when Stan and I were really close, except not because Stan would pester me more about my family and keep asking if I was okay over and over. Cartman doesn't do that because he and I both realize that we're never okay, so asking is just pointless.

Suddenly, I remember the question I started asking him all the questions for.

"Where are you getting your mon-

The bell rings from inside the school and Cartman and I both jump—it seems I was not the only person to forget where we were. We lock eyes for a moment, and slowly, Cartman stands. I begin to follow suit, then suddenly, I'm met in the face with my hat.

"Put it back on so no one else finds out your secret," he says huffily, turning his back to me and beginning to walk back to the entrance.

I remove the green mess from my face and put it on, tucking all my hair into it. Then, I remember there was one more question I was going to ask.

"Wait, Cartman!" I exclaim, running to catch up to him before he slips inside. He pauses with his hand on the door and turns to look at me, his short brown hair catching the wind slightly. The ice on the roof makes it hard for me to retain my balance while running.

I'm finally two steps away and this time, I fall. Hard. Before I hit the roof, He catches me by my jacket collar and holds me there for a moment, my arms dangling and my knuckles scratching the roof's surface.

"God Jew, you really are just a klutz. Don't blame it on the tranny shoes."

I pull myself upward using his other hand and am suddenly very aware of how close are faces are. Curse being four inches shorter than him—the top of my head hits just below his eye line. My hand lingers on his and I slowly feel the heat creep through all my veins and skin. I meet his eyes.

Time freezes. I step closer to him and place a hand on the side of his face. His cheek is scraggly from not shaving this morning, and warm. Slowly, I stand on tiptoe and pull his face down toward mine. I can feel his breath on my face and my breathing slows in response. My chest is against his and his leg between mine. Suddenly, I feel something happen in my pants that I really did not expect and I let go of Cartman's face.

"Um," I begin, trying to cover my boner by moving. "We should go inside."

He says nothing, just looks at me with a somewhat confused expression. Hell, I'm confused.

Then, the last thing I ever expected to happen happens. He smiles. He is smiling. His eyes even become smaller from his cheeks moving. It was a genuine smile. "Whatever, Kahl. I'm bailing for the rest of the school day, so I'll see you at Angel Morte later." He says as he opens the door and immerses himself in the darkness of the janitor's closet, leaving me standing alone in the roof with more confusion than I had before.

I really don't hate him. I can't. I mean… obviously, I care about him. A little. We've known each other for so long—that's perfectly understandable.

But… what did I just do? What just happened? Was I… was I going to kiss him? Something just… sort of took over. I didn't really know what I was doing. I just… acted on impulse. I was curious to know what his face felt like. And… tasted like.

Oh God. I really am gay.

But… not for Cartman. No. No. I don't like Cartman. That's fucking absurd. But… I glance down at my unfriendly visitor and sigh. The cold is helping it die down quickly, at least. That was just from being close to a guy. And yes, Cartman is a guy, but I don't like him. I actually have good taste.

I curse myself for that last thought. Even in my mind I've been conditioned to have a gag reflex when it comes to Cartman. I walk back into the school and continue thinking.

But… maybe I just felt comfortable doing that because we have in fact kissed before? I mean, we've been so close to each other on numerous occasions. I just felt comfortable doing that. Yeah.

I walk through the halls of the school as people run toward their next class.

"I see you and Cartman are much more awkward than usual," a voice says from behind me.

I sigh, "Shut up, Kenny. Don't get involved."

"Oh but my dear _Kylie_, I am already involved, or do you not remember my whole 'glimpses of Cartman's life while I sleep' problem?" a smile spreads across his face as he eyes me. My mind runs through the possibilities of what he could have seen that he finds so amusing.

He narrows his blue eyes at me and grins, "How do you feel about Cartman, Kyle?"

At that, I could literally jump out of my skin. "Wh-why do you ask?"

"I saw you guys on the roof earlier."

My cheeks are red. My face is red. My green hat makes me look like a Christmas decoration. "I was just trying to ask him where he's getting the money."

"You looked much cozier than just that."

"Well, he didn't tell me where he's getting the money—

"You didn't answer my question, Kyle. How do you feel about him?"

"Well… I don't hate him."

"That's a start."

"But he hates me," I conclude, frowning at Kenny.

"Hardly," says Kenny. "He's spending hundreds of dollars to hang out with you, Kyle."

"He's doing it to make fun of me and manipulate me and humiliate me."

"Kyle, you are so thick that I'm surprised your head isn't made of cinderblock."

"Fuck off, we'll be late for class," I reply. "And you don't understand everything, Kenny. You don't know how I feel about Cartman, and obviously, you don't understand him."

"And you do?" he cuts me off. I'm getting really annoyed.

"Sort of," I reply, shrugging. "That's about all anyone could say about understanding hm though." He shakes his blonde head at me, smiling.

"Kyle, Kyle, Kyle… you have changed."

"Thanks for the newsflash," I reply sarcastically. "Now can we stop talking about Cartman?"

I turn my back on him and head toward the classroom. The bell rings and we're now both officially late.

"Do you even question where he's getting the money?" Kenny asks me, not even trying to walk to class. I turn around and shove him away from me. He falls back, but he's still smiling. Fucking demented psychopath. My cheeks sting with heat from a mixture of embarrassment and anger.

"I said I don't want to talk about Cartman at all!" I practically spit at him. Cartman, Cartman, Cartman—can't anyone find something better to talk about? "It's enough that I can't stop thinking about him right now Ken, you don't have to keep bringing him up!"  
"Don't you want to know? Don't you wonder? You do worry about him Kyle, admit it! It's so obvious that you don't hate him anymore and you care about him!"  
"Shut up!" I yell as I close my eyes. Is all that really so obvious yet I couldn't see it? I don't want to think about it. If I think about it too much, something might come to light, and I can't afford to be thinking any thoughts along those lines. I begin to run toward the classroom in order to avoid Kenny's words.

Finally, in a last ditch attempt to get me to face him, he yells, "He's using his savings for college that his mom set up ages ago!"

His words echo through the hall and reverberate in my ears. I pause and turn around, my face still contorted in anger. "_What?_" I ask in disbelief.

"It's his college money," Kenny finishes, standing up a little straighter and stepping toward me. "Were you under the impression that he and his family were well off? Because his mom just up and left, and he's using all his fucking money on YOU. And you're just too goddamn wrapped up in your own problems to even think about why."

I am completely taken aback by Kenny's words. He is right- I've been really wrapped up in myself lately. But… I just wanted to get enough money to live without my mom and my family. I didn't even question where it was coming _from_.

"Now do you understand why I've been harassing you?" Kenny asks pointedly, crossing his arms. "Because not only do I have to see a lot of what Cartman sees, but I have to watch him go and waste all his money on someone as clueless as you. And dude, you are one of my best friends, but Cartman can't keep doing that."

I am literally speechless. It feels like all the heat that was inside of me seconds before cooled down, and is now replaced with giant chunks of ice. I feel bile rising in my stomach and I continue to stare blankly at Kenny. What do I do? What do I do? _What do I do?_

So everything Cartman has done until now… am I just a way to siphon off the money he didn't want around? That's all I am? And he just wanted that fake dating thing to have a reason to get me to take more money? That's all he's cared about?

Kenny walks up to me and I still don't move. My limbs feel so heavy. He leans over to my ear and whispers, "You know what you have to do."

Time stops. Time starts again. Class starts. Time stops. I think. I close my eyes.

/\/\/\

Angel Morte. The front bell rings. Customer. Mercedes shakes me and tells me it's my boyfriend. My fucking boyfriend. Mr. Eric. Before I know what I am doing, I autopilot and walk to his usual table. I sit down and stare directly in my lap. I know he's sitting across from me. I know he's staring at me. I know that look—that expectant, self satisfied grin, That large hand holding a wad of money to give me

"Kylie, would you be so kind as to get me my coffee?" His voice says. His stupid fake politeness voice. I fucking hated it. I hate this. I hate being jerked around like this all for his fucking stupid little games.

I hate this because in all the time I've been working toward having a future, he's been fucking his own up. He's been sitting there listening to me talk about my mom and how I want to do something with my life, and he doesn't have any sorts of feelings like that. Doesn't he have anything better in his life? Why would he do this?

"Kahl…?" he asks. I know my face is red. I'm so confused. I can't look at him. I just can't. I feel awful… I feel like I'm going to throw up all my organs. I feel like punching a wall. I feel like screaming. Why the fuck would he do something this stupid? This irresponsible? Just to make fun of me?

I've been working so hard to get a future away from my parents, and in the process he's just going to throw his away.

I take a deep breath and say, "I don't want your money."

Pause. I still can't look at him. "What?"

I try again. "I can't take your money anymore…"

He laughs. He doesn't realize I'm being serious. "And why the fuck not?"

"I just can't take it anymore, Cartman," I say. It feels weird using that name while in this outfit.

He scoffs again and crosses his arms. "Come on, Jew, money is money! I thought _you_ of all people would understand that. Just take it."  
My heart literally hurts. I can't much more of this. "I can't."  
"Why not?"  
I bite my lip, "Where are you getting this money, Cartman?"

He rolls his eyes, "That's none of your business, Jew-rat."

"It's your college money, isn't it?" I ask. He stops and looks at me, his eyes widening.

"How did you…" he begins to ask.

"Why are you using your college money to pay for me?" I ask my fists shaking. "Is making fun of me that great that you'll waste the money for your future on it?"

"That's not it," he says bluntly, leaning toward me. I back away slightly and just look at him.

"I can't fucking believe you…" I shake my head. "Don't come here any more. I don't want your money."  
"You need it though," he point out smartly. My hands shake even harder.

"I do, but not yours. Even I'm not going to sink as low as to steal the money your mom put in place for you-

"I don't want that whore's money," he says blatantly. I stand up.

"Don't come back here…" I conclude, not looking at him. "Don't bother. I should have never accepted the money from you. I should have known you were up to something dirty."

I begin to walk away from him but he grasps my right wrist, "Wait, Kahl—

I spin around and before I think about it, I ball my other hand into a fist and make contact with his the right side of his face. He let's go of my wrist and holds his face, cursing. I just look at him, my heart sinking further.

He finally looks up and I can see the look of confusion in his eyes. Tears prick at my own, and I turn around without another word and walk to the backroom, my heels echoing throughout the restaurant. I'm sure the other waitresses are looking at me, but I could give a rat's ass.

Tears begin to roll down my cheeks as I open the door to the backroom. Why do I care about him so much?

/\/\/\

"Bubbala it's so great to see you!"

"Hi Mom," I say, trying to feign a smile. My grip tightens around the handle of my bag as I stand outside my home, in front of my mother. She reaches her large arms outward and grasps me in a tight hug, holding the middle of my torso. The top of her large Marge Simpson-esque hair tower hits my right ear. She let's go and looks me up and down, "It feels like it's been so long!" Why is she being so friendly? Wasn't she really mad at me about a week ago?

My father appears over her shoulder from the living room and smiles at me. "Kyle, how have you been? We haven't heard from you. We were getting worried."

"I wasn't even gone for a week," I say plainly. "And you knew where I was—just over at Stan's house."

They say nothing, and my mother ushers me into the house. "Now let's go inside, I made some kanishas," she smiles.

"We need to talk about where you're heading in life, Kyle. Over dinner," my dad says, taking hold of my bag and placing it at the foot of the stairs.

Just like it was before. I inwardly sigh and sit down at the dining room table, ready to hear all about how bad my decisions have been and how I won't be able to see my friends outside of school. I'm used to it by now.

I'm going to quit my job, too, otherwise my mom will definitely find out about it and make me quit anyway. It's better to keep her from grounding me until I'm thirty, at least.

It's time to give up the storybook fantasy of being able to escape. I mean… I'll be at college in two years, I won't even have to be home at all. I should just try and get along with my family the best I can… because they need me. I've been a selfish son.

After this weekend, I'll quit my job at Angel Morte. I'll quit this stupid charade. It isn't worth it if I just keep getting lied to and tugged around by Cartman… I pout slightly as I lean back in my chair and close my eyes. I watch the grays and browns of the back of my eyelids.

No more work. I can do all my homework and actually have a somewhat normal sleeping schedule. I can start having family meals again. Ike might even be able to visit some… It wasn't so bad before. I was just being melodramatic. We can be a family.

Stan, Wendy and Kenny will just have to understand I can't see them as much anymore… my future is at stake. My mom has my best interests at heart.

I'll say goodbye to everyone at Angel Morte this weekend. And hopefully, Cartman will never mention anything that happened there. It will just be our little secret. This whole ordeal can be forgotten. The back of my throat feels dry and I try to swallow.

I'll see my friends at school. And I can properly ignore Cartman when he doesn't have some stupid deal hanging over my head. So… everything will turn out just how I wanted.

My life will be normal again.

That means… goodbye, Mr. Eric.

/\/\/\

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

/\/\/\

Author's Note: FINALLY. Just finally. I wrote the ideas behind this chapter seven months ago. Even half the dialogue. Writing all the chapter buildups until this was an absolute nightmare.

I'm sorry for ending it the way I did. THIS IS NOT THE LAST CHAPTER. Don't worry, it keeps going.

I'm hoping I can write the next two chapters quickly, but currently my computer is acting up so I don't know what kind of impact that will have on my updates… truthfully it's a Mac 08 and the right speaker keeps making this awful noise and it overheats and now I can't even close it properly.

So yeah, if it takes me two weeks to update, don't be surprised. I'm also in the midst of moving, but I just wanted to get this chapter done so I would have it stop hanging over my head.

Much love, OR

/\/\

Reply to Review from Person:

Hey I wish you had an account so this didn't have to be public. But thank you for the review, I'd been waiting for someone to point out the Angel Morte time opened thing. I did not notice the phone inconsistencies though so thanks for that. It's a shame I don't have a beta reader otherwise the whole grammar thing would not be as much of an issue but YES, I have grammar issues in this story in particular because of the fact it's present tense first person POV, which I am not at all used to. Thank you for pointing out the grammar thing though, I'll try to be more aware of it in the future.

I do edit but sometimes (especially when you edit your own work that you've read at least twenty times) things slip by. I apologize if the inconsistencies and awful grammar distract people from the actual plot, I hope it doesn't, I'd feel pretty fucking awful if it did. I never said I was a great writer (hah), in my actual career I'm studying to be a storyboard artist and writer for cartoons, so writing in the conventional sense isn't exactly my field of study. I have a lot to learn and I'm really trying, so I genuinely do appreciate the time you took to point out my errors and crappy grammar.

Where did I not finish my sentences? Recently, I went through all the first chapters and tried to edit them but sometimes it didn't save correctly so maybe that had something to do with it. And Cartman's jacket is still in Kyle's possession. I shall go edit that chapter and make it clear that he in fact did pick it up... Like I said, I'm a visual storyteller more than anything so IN MY MIND I see him pick up the jacket while he's thinking... this style really is hard for me though and it's hard to convey some actions while he's thinking...

Thanks again though, I'll keep trying to improve. Granted the first fourteen chapters (I believe) I wrote about 10-11 months ago so HOPEFULLY these last chapters were better.

And that goes to ANYONE who is reviewing my story, if something bugs you, TELL ME so I can fix it in newer chapters/become a better writer/stop assaulting you all with awful grammar.

OHHH and there are some jumps in my stories that happened when FF changed their settings so sometimes my sentences and paragraphs jump or get cut off... it's hard to explain but I'll go through it all one of these days and fix it. Sorry again.

I'll go fix the phone stuff first... how terribly bothersome, sorry I didn't catch that. I thought I explained his mom slipped it in his bag or something but OH WELL. I SHALL GET TO WORK!

Much much love and thanks, OR


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